Two Destinations
by renelenier
Summary: Arthur and Guinevere have been friends for seven years and flatmates for three. Their lives together had never been terribly complicated before, so it seems unlikely that anything could disrupt their perfect worlds. Things aren't always what they seem.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.

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Gwen flipped through the pages of the most recent month's edition of Gentlemen's Quarterly. She had been dressed and waiting for twenty minutes now. It's impossible to comprehend how it could take a man so long to prepare himself for an uncomplicated dinner out with new friends.

She slapped the crisp pages of the magazine together and picked up the remote, deciding to flip through the channels instead. It was already 7.49 p.m. and their reservations were for 8.15. They would be late, but she supposed that the others would be too.

"Okay, I think I'm ready," he said from inside the room.

"Let's see it then," she replied. This time she kept watching the screen. The last two ensembles were in his opinion a complete mission failure and she wasn't sure if he would make it out of the room this time.

"Well," he asked.

The voice was nearer. She turned her head to see him sporting a simple modern fit, dark blue dress shirt and a pair of slacks. He looked magnificent. It was odd but she hadn't noticed how lovely he could be in that color. His face began to twist from a nervous smile into sincere distress.

"You don't like it?"

"No. That's not it. You look fantastic, is all."

"Really?" he asked, still looking doubtful.

"Really! Don't worry she will love you. You're irresistible," Gwen told him with a coy smirk.

She stopped to perfect her lips with a touch of gloss in the mirror inside the narrow hallway while her flat mate searched for his keys. Tilting her head to one side she took in her new appearance. Her stylist had replaced her soft ringlets with the bone straight tress that normally adorned Morgana's head. It had been a bit of a shock to him – her too to be honest.

'Your curls are gloriously sacrosanct,' he told her.

They were her favorite accessory. A sort of signature, like the just right piece of jewelry that accentuated your one true little black dress or the perfect pair of fancy colored high heels that dressed up even your most casual tee and jeans combo.

"You look perfect Guinevere," he told her, sensing the tiny bit of apprehension she was feeling.

"You always know just what to say."

"Let's hope so. I can't believe I'm actually dating like a grown up again."

Gwen smiled and took him by the hand. "It's like riding a bicycle and we know you've ridden hundreds of those."

"Hang on," he countered almost really hurt, except it was a true statement.

"Kiddin', you've completely turned over a new leaf."

"I have," he said pointing his finger but then his shoulders dropped. "I just don't know if should."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to settle down."

"I know but shouldn't I want to sow my oats." He said the term as if it literally meant that he had to visit the local hardware store for seeds and an actual hoe.

The counseling session continued all the way down the lift to the car park.

"I suppose it's natural for you to still want all of the same things and hope to find it in a new person," she told him.

"So you don't think it's foolish for me to do this again so soon?"

"No." Was that entirely true, she wondered? Should he really be seeking out another serious relationship so soon after being dumped?

"I feel foolish. I keep asking myself: What if she doesn't like me?"

"You're just a little nervous. It's your first real attempt at dating since Sophia. It's only natural to be jittery."

He considered her words for a long moment. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you like him?"

"I love him! He's great."

"But?"

"No buts, we're friends."

He feigned belief, nodding his head and furrowing his brows together in a haughty, entirely insincere attempt at contemplation.

"I'm not joking," she respond to his glare, unable to suppress a laugh. "We thought you two would be perfect for each other and everyone knows blind dates are the awful creations of the seventh circle of Dante's inferno; so we decided it would be best for us to come with, just so it didn't feel so massive."

"So you actually believe that he offered up this double date idea for mine and Vivian's sakes?"

"Yes. I do." She received more scepticism of the cynical variety from him. "Wha? He's my friend. I would know if he liked me."

Now he rolled his eyes too.

Arthur Pendragon had been one of her dearest friends since they were introduced to each other by Morgana – his sister, her friend. They hit it off from the start and kept moved in with him after months of his tireless pleading. He had a huge flat and hated being in it alone. The rent couldn't be any more accommodating – he only asked that she would cook whenever they didn't order out and of course, do all the grocery shopping, which he hated but always offered up his special brand of talent to aid in the completion of both chores.

To his sister and the rest of their friends, the living arrangements appeared quite domesticated, despite their constant denials. After a while they just accepted the nagging and inappropriate banter but it all faded away when soon after both of them entered into serious relationships with other people. Gwen dated one of her many suitors for more than a year and Arthur started down the path of a long term relationship with his now ex-fiancée Sophia.

Eventually the others accepted that there was really nothing there to ship beyond them being solid mates.

Looking on as Arthur struggled through the French on his menu with the patient help of his very cultured date Vivian, Gwen wondered if she really could go through with the pact that they had sworn to three weekends ago.

"How's your wine?" Gwaine asked her.

"It's not bad, you wouldn't make a terrible sommelier," she answered.

"That is the most flattering backhanded compliment I received in almost forever, thank you, Guinevere," he replied grinning.

"I did not mean it like that. You'd come in rather handy."

"Oh yes, Gwaine, the maybe terrible sommelier."

"Think of it more as a term of endearment," she giggled.

He leaned in and whispered into her ear, "I think he likes her."

Gwen snuck a glance over at the matching, blonde couple enjoying each other's company and smiled. "I think you did well with this one."

"Better than the wine," he teased.

"Stop it, the wine is fantastic. You're just a whore for compliments."

"What's that about whores?" Arthur nosed his way in.

"Nothing," she replied returning to her lamb.

The remainder of dinner went swimmingly. She blushed again as Gwaine remarked for the millionth time that evening that he loved her hair and Arthur and Vivian made googly eyes at each other while the four of them waited for the valet to usher their cars from across the street.

"I told you he liked you," Arthur tossed out the moment he shut his door.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh Guinevere your hair is like a waterfall of melted chocolate that pours in the pool of my heart and when you blink your eyes, my heart beats in triplicate and my tummy flutters with anticipation," he mocked in his best Romeo to Juliet.

"Oh you have some cheek. At least he wasn't pretending not to know what he was reading all evening. Just exactly how many years of university French did you have again?"

"Guinevere, my French is not brilliant," he uttered, almost guffawing. "And that bit of acting doesn't change the fact that I am right."

The bastard was right, she thought but she swore she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

She had met Gwaine a year and a half ago one morning on her way to the office. They ordered the same odd coffee and chai combination and figured that the mutual quirkiness warranted at least an exchange of phone contacts.

It'd been texting and the occasional social outing with each other's friends, mostly him tagging along to all her fun events, ever since. You're always told that friendships serve as a great basis for a lasting romance, but knowing all of someone's secrets and insecurities from the outset of a relationship could be equally as dangerous.

The entire ride home was consumed by Arthur's need to hear her admit that he was right. Conceding only a small bit of interest existed between her and Gwaine was as far as she would go tonight despite his argumentations.

They changed out of their dinner attire and ended up falling asleep on the comfy sofa together after watching DVR'd reruns of 'ER'.

The buzz from the intercom went off next to Arthur and for a moment she was pleased that she had chosen to rest her head on the opposite side of the couch last night, until he jerk rather violently and she felt her body flying from its resting place and falling hard onto the hard Brazilian teak floors.

"Sorry," he apologized ignoring the constant noise from the doorman two flights down. He grabbed her by the waist, helping her to her feet and then kissed her swiftly on the lips. It was just a light peck but then, he returned and his lips showed more intent.

The haze of waking up so abruptly must have been the reason why she kissed him back, she decided. Mercifully the buzzing had ended at some point during their long, lip-locked exchange but then a persistent knocking visited the door. It finally broke the deepening kiss, pulling both of them out of whatever rabbit hole they had just tripped and fallen into.

They stared at each other for another moment and then he moved by her and went to answer the door. She could feel him looking back at her from over his shoulder. She stood paralyzed and then the sharp pain returned to her left knee.

She flopped down onto the sofa, twinging from the motion and biting down on her untrustworthy lips to block out the excruciating sensation. She could hear the noisy chatter filtering into the open area that had a dedicated section for kitchen, dining and living activities but no dividing walls.

"I didn't get you one of those exotic concoctions that you crave. I figured after last night's date with Gwaine you may want your coffee black," Morgana teased.

Gwen didn't answer. She kept staring down at her swollen, red knee, thinking about what had somehow managed to occur for the first time in more than seven years of knowing each other and just over three years of cohabitation.

"Sweetie is everything all right?" She asked. She set the paper cup and her toned arse wrapped in a pair of painted on skinny jeans on top of the coffee table and caught sight of the offending knee. "Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just slammed it into the floor." Morgana raised an eyebrow at her. "I mean Arthur slammed me into the floor."

That didn't help, now both perfect eyebrows were raised.

"Not like that," he clarified leaving Lancelot and Merlin to get some ice from the kitchen.

"How exactly then?" Lancelot asked.

"We fell asleep on the couch and when you three rang the buzzer I sort of kicked her off of it," he said trailing off a bit.

"Oh, we're sorry Gwen," Merlin said taking the seat next to her. He rubbed her back softly. "I guess we just assumed that you two always did your sleeping in the bed, like normal flat mates do when they have big, huge beds in separate rooms designed specifically for not sleeping together."

"Shut up Merlin," Arthur said sitting next to the knee and placing the cloth filled with ice cubes onto it.

There was a collective effort on the part of the others to stifle chuckles and smirks. Both Arthur and Guinevere found it more comforting at the moment to concentrate their eyes on her pulsing knee than on each other or directly at any of the three other people in the room.

"I was only kidding about the coffee," Morgana said. Arthur's sister handed her the cup. She took it gladly finding yet another thing to do that did not involve looking at her friend. He moved again, this time scampering off to his room for something important she imagined.

The others fussed over her. Merlin put her leg on a pillow in his lap and held the ice pack against the bruise. They prodded her with questions seeking details about the date from the night before. They cancelled their Saturday morning breakfast outing, opting for Lancelot's handy chef expertise instead.

It was lucky that they had gone shopping the day prior.

Arthur had returned from his room but he had decided to help out in the kitchen staying clear of the group on the sofa. The searing pain had eased into a muted ache and just before the personalized omelettes were flipped into individual plates, she hobbled out of her room after spending a few moments alone staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Arthur was a good guy and a great friend. Through all the time that they've known each other, they shared stories of all their lives as single people filled with pretty partners who doted over them and the wretched ones too, all of which had ended in an epic disaster or petered out before a flame could really take hold, occasionally some ended on good terms like with her and Lancelot.

But neither of them ever seriously considered the other as a potential match. And so while the thought had not truthfully escaped a handful of late nights ponderings between them, they had decided long before that just being friends forever was good enough for the both of them and that they would rather have the other in their life in that way than ever taking the chance of becoming lovers and possibly ruining a perfectly wonderful friendship.

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed chapter one. Please review and let me know what you think. Chapter two will be posted soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

For three years he dated Sophia but their relationship ended when she told him that while she cared for him very much, she really couldn't see them being married to each other. She returned the engagement ring. They tried to be friends but her life was always very busy and people needed time apart after they've made those sorts of decisions.

The six months since, he had focused his energies on getting more work done. His sister and friends still shot him sideways glances every now and again but for the most part they had taken him off of suicide watch and they all reasoned that since Gwen was with him most of the time when they weren't, he was likely in good hands.

It wasn't as if he was crushed by Sophia's rebuffing. For the longest while he thought it was strange that he wasn't heartbroken. He rationalized it by thinking that he was still young and perhaps too foolish to be actively pursuing marriage, but then that feeling evaporated and the nagging desire to commit came back again.

Now, after finally facing down some of his demons and exercising his grief through a series of flings, he was once again ready to extradite himself from the world of serial dating and find someone that he could spend the rest of his life with; someone who wanted the same thing as he did, at the same time.

Not once had he seriously considered that Gwen might be interested in him as anything more than a friend, but the way she kissed him couldn't possibly be how she kissed just anybody.

"What's wrong," Lancelot asked him.

Arthur shook his head and took another long swig from the bottle of ale.

"You do seem a bit distracted," Merlin added.

He shrugged and averted his eyes from the corner of the pub where the ladies' room was situated. They had just left them at the table and he had an awful feeling in his gut that she was doing with Morgana exactly what he wanted to do at the moment.

"I kissed Guinevere," he blurted out. "And she kissed me back."

"Whaaat?" Lancelot scoffed.

Merlin shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Finally," he said, not at all impressed or disturbed by the update.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Arthur asked him.

"Are you really trying to tell me that you've never thought about it before?"

Arthur looked away, eyes bothered, furrowing his brow and scratching the non-existent itch that had attacked his neck and shoulder all at once. He tried to shake the remaining anxiety from his limbs and then returned the cold, glass bottle to his lips.

The two men sat, waiting for him to say something.

"Well, haven't you?" Merlin followed up.

"That's really not the point, is it?" Lancelot responded to him instead.

"Then what is?"

"They're friends."

"So were you?"

"It's not the same. We were still just friends of friends then."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard."

Arthur ignored them, instead watching the banter go on like a tennis match of arguments and counterarguments. He had no idea which one of the two men were winning. The discussion made him uncomfortable, anyway; neither of them really knew all the things that he and Guinevere would talk about in the late nights after they would depart their friend's company, when it was just the two of them alone inside their flat.

"We barely even dated."

"It was like a month."

"Three dates, Merlin. Three dates."

"I knew I loved Morgana after our first date."

"You loved Morgana from the moment she took her first breath. They've known each other for what? Seven years? And nothing's ever happened before."

"That doesn't mean they can't start now?"

This wasn't even something that his friends could agree upon. He wondered what Morgana was thinking or worse what she might be saying to Gwen if they were indeed talking about this, but then he remembered that she'd always been less than subtle with her suggesting – more like a sledgehammer attached to a battering ram set to high. She and Merlin were like twins whenever this subject came up, they would finish each other's sentences and go on and on about kismet and the like.

Lancelot; he was trickier. He and Gwen had ended their brief relationship and decided that they were better off as friends, breaking up before their differences complicated the tight knit group of five.

Arthur could remember offering the man what he concluded was sound advice. "Are you mad? He nearly shouted at him. "I'd give up the lot of you for a girl like Gwen." Those words and his perfect recollection of some of the things he felt the moment he uttered them were twisting his stomach into all sorts of knots right now.

At the time, he figured he was simply lobbying for Gwen's interests and merely acting like a loyal cheerleader in defense of love and frankly, just being honest. Had he been the one in Lancelot's shoes, he would have taken his own advice – it would have been precisely what he would have done.

"Gwen's too practical for that," he heard Lancelot say. He looked up at him again, regretting that he hadn't been paying attention. Arthur's mind began to summon a myriad of questions: What did he mean by that? Was she really too practical to deem him as relationship worthy? Impossible; he and Gwen had spoken about it a few times, albeit jokingly, but they did agree to a pact. Why did he agree to that stupid pact?

His fingers went to work at rubbing the creases from his forehead. To his left, somehow Merlin had decided that it was time to give his mouth a rest, all of a sudden. The tennis match was over and he missed the final tally.

The women returned to the table a short while after, with a pair of freshly filled martini glasses. Arthur could tell that they had both gotten past their limit. Before they could even attempt to lift the drinks to their lips, their hands were ceased and the glasses were snatched from both of them by the two other men.

Neither were pleased.

"What are you doing?" Gwen asked of Lancelot. She was pouty and perky. "We're your friends, not your children."

"Well, technically, I am your Daddy," Merlin said, grinning and pointing to an equally delighted Morgana.

Both his flat mate and his sister practically squealed like little girls and then the sound erupted into a couple of very pretty giggles. They sat atop the swiveling stools and proceeded to twist themselves in the seats – Gwen next to Merlin and Morgana next to Lancelot, both of them directly across from Arthur.

To the two of them, the men in their party were virtually invisible. They continued their spinning around game, stopping to take tiny sips of their drinks and somehow managing to order another round for themselves without anyone taking notice. They whispered and sent each other private messages with their eyes and when that wasn't enough with their mobiles, as their friends and just about every other man around them looked on, longing to know what could possibly be so entertaining to the pair of beauties.

The night officially came to an end when Morgana stretched across the table and planted a salacious kiss on Merlin's lips to urge him to give back what turned out to be her last drink; his firm denial only had the effect of spurring her on. The couple made no attempts at discretion, deciding it was time for them to go back to their flat.

"Well that just leaves us," a bubbly Gwen said to them with a bright smile and an unintentionally teasing giggle.

Arthur shoved every unseemly thought back into his own personal Pandora's Box inside his head, especially when his blue eyes met Lancelot's brown ones – he wondered if his friend might have had to do the same.

He watched as the dark-haired man took Gwen by the hand and tried to keep her standing upright while he took care of the tab – it was his turn to pay.

Lancelot, as always, had his pick of the any of the women who happened to have wander into the pub on their regular Saturday night outing, but tonight he decided to join them for the taxi ride home instead of leaving with the ginger-haired girl that had already given him her mobile number five minutes after he walked in the door.

Gwen sat between them, giggling the entire way home. Arthur said a small prayer for the ride being a short one. Things between them would have been uncomfortable enough had he taken her home alone in this condition, but watching her choose to snuggle her head on Lancelot's chest after what happened earlier in the day was disconcerting to him at best and deeply disappointing at worst – he couldn't shake the odd sense of betrayal, no matter how hard he tried.

"You could stay the night in the spare room," he told Lancelot.

"Thanks, but I think I'll leave any required hair holding that she might need to your good graces tonight".

"Yeah, thanks, mate." Absentmindedly he ribbed, "Do you think she'll be able to get her clothes off by herself?"

He meant nothing by it, but then he realized that there were now things that they could no longer joke about where their friend was concerned. Unfortunately, that realization came to him after his mouth had spouted off. Arthur straightened his posture and cleared his throat as to remove the stupid grin from off his face.

There was a sincerely awkward pause between the two men before Lancelot answered him.

"Yeah, I think she'll be all right with that bit." Without hesitation he asked, "Do you want to talk it, Arthur?"

"Nah, it was nothing."

"Are you sure, mate?"

"Yeah, but thanks anyway. We'll sort things out in the morning."

The last of their friends, who just happened to have been her onetime boyfriend, left.

Arthur returned to the couch, slapping all of the light switches on the way back to the open room. The flickering lights of the changing images and the soft humming of the muted flat screen were all that remained.

There were no distressful moans coming from inside of her room and after an hour of waiting and several pouty sighs, he shut the machine off, shuffled to his room and falling into bed.

The red light on his mobile was flashing. He unlocked it to see a stomach churning snapshot of his sister making out with her boyfriend in the backseat of the taxi. The pair infuriated him precisely because of moments such as these, but they loved each other and Merlin had already bought the ring; besides the more time they spent together the less trouble they caused him.

He only cringed at the thought of his nieces and, or nephews – an army of little Morlins. He literally shivered.

Returning the phone to the nightstand, he reconsidered whether he should have confided what occurred between him and Gwen to Merlin. Lancelot was always very tightlipped when it came to such things, but his sister could coerce anything from that other man.

He didn't think Morgana knew or she would not have missed the opportunity to flaunt it in her drunken state no matter how much the other woman would have threatened her on pain of death or even worse: the dreaded Guinevere silent treatment. Under normal circumstances just the idea of it would be enough to quiet any one of them. He had only ever witnessed it being executed on one other bloke, but Arthur had nothing but pity for the poor sap while he watched him suffer through it. He did not want the Guinevere silent treatment, ever.

He rolled over, punched his pillow until it was just right, sighed one last time and hoped that he would fall asleep soon.

* * *

"Good morning," she said, speaking softly into the kitchen at him.

"Morning. Would you like some tea?"

"Thanks. I am in desperate need."

"How much did you have to drink last night," he asked because normally he would have been monitoring her drinking and making sure that she hadn't overindulged, but last night he tried desperately not to eye her as much as he reasonably could.

"I don't really remember. Arthur, should we talk about what happened yesterday?"

He was hoping she would not have gotten to the point straight away. "Ah, yeah. Let me just get your cup." He wasn't sure what to say. All night he'd thought about it, until he finally fell asleep. He had no explanation for his actions and no way to avoid discussing it until he could figure out why he had done it in the first place.

He dropped one of her favorite bags into the cup and poured the hot water over it.

Handing it to her, he looked down at the darken bruise on her knee and cursed himself, the noisy intercom and the sofa again. "I'm really sorry about that," he apologized once more but she was too busy inhaling the aroma from the cup.

"I love this one the best whenever I feel shite like this," she said. He knew that already, though hearing her confirm it put a proud smile on his face. Every trace of it vanished as soon as she looked up at him, however.

He thought he could feel it, even before she said it. He imagined it was like standing on a beach moments before a tsunami wave came crashing back to shore – everything around you is still, quiet and peaceful and then all at once you realize you're alone and barreling down upon you is a heavy dousing of reality.

"I can't explain it," he said. "I'm sorry. It will never happen again."

She told him, one more time, that there was no need to apologize for it. And when she walked back to her room to take the bath that she had mentioned, he struggled more with the mental image of her in the tub than with her assumption and complete resignation that the kiss had meant nothing at all.

And for the rest of the day it was as if what had happened was nothing at all.

They flipped through the same parts of the newspaper: the sport section for him and the travel and style sections for her. They watched all the same Sunday TV programs and went to bed at their usual hour.

Getting to the office together was no different. He drove while she went on about the meetings they had lined up for the day and mentioned something about interviewing someone named Leon for the manager's position that had been vacant for three months – none of the other candidates seemed right.

They still managed to laugh at the silly, intimating jabs that Merlin delivered as the three of them drank their breakfast in Arthur's office and planned strategy, like always. He even agreed to spend another Friday night out with her, Gwaine and Vivian after they both read all their messages from over the weekend.

Almost everything was like it had been. The only change in their routine came at lunch.

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**A/N: Guys I really hope you are enjoying reading this half as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Review and let me know. Next update should be in a week. **

**I can't believe S3 is over this weekend. **

***cries* a little. x)**

**The only good news is that we're only a few months away from the start of filming for S4 and S3 will soon be on SyFy here in the States.**

**I'll be watching 3x13 tomorrow with popcorn and my prayers that Uther will survive or come back as a ghost to slightly haunt Arthur.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**So many lovely reviews and tracking and fav'ing. I decided to update with a new chapter as a post S3 toast to everyone reading and because chapter two was so cliffhangery and such.**

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"Where's Gwen?" Merlin asked bursting into his office without a knock or God forbid an acknowledgment from the occupant on the other side of the door. He never does it to Gwen.

"She won't be joining us today," Arthur replied, smiling wide and then adding, "It's just you and me."

"Great, you're such a horrible kisser, she's avoiding you now. Already, I am being made to suffer. I hope you can live with yourself."

"She had a lunch meeting; stop being so dramatic, Helen Mirren."

"That's Dame Helen to you and that woman is national treasure."

"Why do I even bother with you? Besides, haven't you always wanted something like this to happen between Gwen and me?"

"We have," he replied.

"Merlin, do you even have an original thought anymore or do you just absorb all of my sister's viewpoints through osmosis?"

"Osmosis? Is that what you and Gwen call it when you snog? Because Morgana and me, we–"

"Stop right there," he pointed his finger, along with his stern objection. "Merlin, I shouldn't have to remind you that she's my sister and I don't ever want to think of the two of you in that way; ever. And for the love of God, will you both stop sending me photos of yourselves while in the act."

"Now who's being dramatic?"

"Let's just go now, before I am being made to revisit my breakfast."

Merlin was being dramatic. He and Gwen had worked hard to get past these sort of debates with the three dark-haired wonders. Now they would likely have to start all over again.

Arthur reflected for a moment as he pushed the button to the ground floor inside of the lift. Gwen had no need to avoid him over their kiss – he hoped she understood that, though now he was thinking that her lunch meeting was announced rather suddenly and she hadn't even stopped by his office to let him know, instead she sent him a text. He'd scarcely seen her all day, but it's only lunchtime yet.

They stepped out into the marble lobby of the Pendragon Building, crossed the street and went a few blocks off the main road to the little sandwich shop where he and Gwen would sneak off to to have a quiet lunch before Merlin started to tag along.

The two of them were fixtures in the dressed down eatery that looked like something out of medieval fantasy book, complete with large tankards of world class selection of ale, playfully labeled as mead for effect, and modern day waitresses dressed up as serving girls.

Arthur sighed. He could accept just being friends, if that's what she wanted, he told himself.

"So it meant nothing to you?"

"I don't know, Merlin. Dear Lord, you're like a trained dog."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not following, either it was a meaningful kiss or it wasn't. So which one is it?"

Trained dog or not, his friend certainly knew how to cut to the chase. Maybe there's a slight chance that Merlin could offer some constructive advice, just this once.

"Okay. It was like this. It was nothing, at first, just a little 'sorry for inflicting the bodily harm on your person' peck."

"Is there such a thing?" He retorted.

"In this instance." He gave back Merlin's snarky tone with an equal measure of his own. "Anyway, it was quick. In and then out…but then I went back."

"You went back?" He exclaimed.

"Sort of; it really was just one kiss though and it was fine, but at some point it started to feel different than all the other times."

"Different?" He asked, then his eyes widened. "You two had kissed before?"

"No," Arthur answered dismissively.

"So then what other times are you talking about?"

Arthur sat still like a statue, wordless and transfixed.

"Oh," Merlin said surprised, finding an answer in the non response. After his initial brow-raised expression, he narrowed them before adding, "Oh. All of the other times?"

Arthur looked at him nodding slowly.

"Including the times with Sophia?"

A nervous sideways glance answered that question.

"Oh," Merlin repeated again fully grasping the gravity of his friend's dilemma.

Arthur didn't exactly know why he was having this conversation with Merlin instead of perhaps the more reliably reticent Lancelot. But after Gwen, he considered him his closest friend. It wasn't always that way, but in the last few of years she had always been there for him, no matter what. At the moment, however, talking to her about this was not an option.

Finally, his friend asked, "So what are you going to do?"

"There's nothing to do. She was pretty clear."

"I don't know if I would say that what she said was clear."

"Her exact words were: 'So it meant nothing, yeah?'. And I'm telling you Merlin, she was not asking."

"How do you know for that sure? Women sometimes say one thing and mean the exact opposite."

"Merlin, I know this woman like the back of my hand."

His blue-eyed mate opened his mouth to utter something Arthur had no doubt would be yet another inappropriate and likely successful attempt at wit. "Don't," he warned him.

Merlin's mouth absorbed the bite-size chunk of sandwich in his fingers instead of speaking.

"There's very little that I don't know about Guinevere. We've lived together, practically as husband and wife, for three years." His words seemed to ignite a spark that blew out all of his consternation concluding on one final, long sought after answer. "That's it."

"Hmm?" Merlin replied, finishing his chewing action on the last bit of his portabella burger and then sucked his fingers clean of any traces of ketchup.

"What I said. We've been together like a married couple in our place all this time. With her being single and my being dumped, the crisp, clean line of our friendship just got a bit blurred," he said. The only thing missing was the 'ta-da'.

"That…," Merlin said with a pause before continuing, "…is what you think it is?"

A slightly less confident Arthur responded, "Maybe. You obviously don't agree."

"We have our theories," he replied haughtily disregarding his friend's nearly predictable eyeroll.

"Why am I'm not surprised. You and my sister and your theories; you're all wrong."

"You think so."

"I know so."

"All right then, Arthur, answer me this: Why do you want to get married?"

"What an absurd question. Why does anyone want to get married?"

"We're not talking about them, we're talking about you."

"I'm not even going to entertain this right now." He motioned the corseted woman for the check.

"Oh come on, humor me," he said.

Now he knew for certain that it had been a bad idea to have this conversation with him. It would have been awkward to talk to Lancelot about it, but this much self analysis and confessing could only be drawn out of him by this man or his sister.

The pair seemed to have a supernatural quality about them; cornering people and then lulling them into spilling their guts and hearts and revealing every little secret that they tried to hide. They were either especially talented psychotherapists or very evil sorcerers.

Arthur was about to answer when Merlin stopped him to say, "Ah ah, be honest. It's just you and your best mate here, talking as men."

Arthur sighed again.

"For the record, after this bit I'm not sure whether or not you are my best mate." Merlin made a 'whatevs' face that he ignored. "To answer your question, honestly, I want to get married because I want what you and Morgana have," he said, hoping that the shameless flattery might put him off the chase, even if it was in fact the truth.

"Uh huh," he replied, nodding a cocked head.

It was not the reaction he had hoped to get, nor was it the one that he secretly wished for. Merlin was being strangely elusive now and the curious nature of the response was too much to disregard. Arthur took the bait.

"Is that so terrible?" He asked.

"No, not at all," Merlin answered.

"Then, what?" He was more than annoyed at him. Merlin was usually much more forthright, especially when he was this sure of himself.

"Nothing."

"No, not nothing. We're talking as men, remember. So talk."

"Fine, then."

He watched as Merlin calmly, purposefully swallowed a few large gulps of the sugary, carbonated drink that he'd ordered along with the vegetarian meal. Gwen had already managed to wean him off that stuff since he had a tendency to overindulge in red meat.

She took great care in ensuring he ate healthier once she'd moved in. Within weeks she was able to get him to cut milk out of his diet. It wasn't very difficult to give up; however, he drew a hard line in the sand when it came to his meats and eventually, they came to a compromise where he could continue with his steak and potatoes diet if he opted out of the fizzy drinks and she was allowed to have all her fancy cheeses.

"Did you ever consider that the reason you proposed to Sophia was to see what Gwen would do?"

"Merlin, what on earth are you talking about? I proposed to Sophia because I wanted to marry her."

"Yeah?" He asked.

Arthur thought that Merlin was turning skepticism into a new art form today, even for him.

"Yes, Merlin, I did and I cannot believe we just had this conversation. In fact, we never had this conversation."

They paid for lunch and walked back to the office. The therapy session was over and the only thing that Arthur was sure of was that his own theories about that morning were bogus. The thing about Sophia and the marriage proposal still nagged at him though.

* * *

A quick, petite knock came to his door and the pretty little head of his current machinations popped inside of the doorway.

"Busy?"

"No, not for you."

He reminded himself again to be more careful with his choice of words. She didn't seem to mind it though. Gleefully, she entered his office and walked around his desk to sit between him and his computer screen. He noted her proximity to him and her ease with the idea of being so close and decided that the lunch slight was not avoidance.

New knots tied themselves around the old ones in his stomach.

"Don't be angry with me," she said.

"I could never be…," he stopped himself before finishing. Voicing his true thoughts would not afford him any practical gains. "Go on."

"I had lunch with Leon and I offered him the position on the spot. I hope that's all right with you."

"Sure," he said. "You know that I trust your judgment."

"Oh, thank God," she replied. "I was worried about it the entire time. I mean, I told him 'You're hired' ten minutes after we sat down."

"He was that impressive?"

"Hmm, hmm," she noted, with a little nod. Her gaze went to the view outside the window behind him. What was she thinking about, he wondered?

A horrible feeling invaded his mind all of a sudden. He decided that finding out was the better risk.

"If I didn't know you any better, I would say you were smitten."

She returned to him and whatever she had been thinking about was gone. "Well, he is rather tall," she said.

"Guinevere, height is a relative term next to you, literally."

"Was that really necessary?"

"I suppose it was a bit much, apologies."

"Accepted."

She smiled and he felt at ease again.

"So how was your boys only lunch?"

They went on talking for far longer than they should have, considering that it was still the middle of the work day. The ride home was the same and she tried again to teach him how to do something more than boil water in their kitchen.

Normally, when they went through this little Julia Child routine, he really didn't train his thoughts to her instructions too much, believing he was beyond salvation with a frypan.

He wasn't sure what he had been thinking about on those other occasions and while he hadn't really noticed it until that day, he found that he was happy just watching her do it, anything for that matter; especially when she would lick sugary things from her fingers and then offer him the spoon.

* * *

**A/N:I love Helen Mirren and did a little nod to her because she is a national treasure and she played Morgana in my favorite King Arthur retelling "Excalibur".**

**Next update not likely before Friday. **

**Also, I've decided to extend the story out a bit more since I'm having loads of fun with these guys and their shenanigans. **


	4. Chapter 4

Gwen woke early, still coming down from a bit of a sugar induced haze. She and Arthur had overloaded on the icing for the carrot cake that he sort of helped her to make. The recipe was her grandmother's, from the family cookbook. It was an heirloom and she was the third generation to have it. She cherished it more than many things in her life.

It wasn't how they usually ended a typical Monday evening, but the cake was Arthur's favorite and he was still feeling quite guilty for having knocked her from the couch, so she offered the idea as a truce, which she felt was warranted. When they had gotten home, she walked into their flat to the sight of several bouquets of flowers and a few giant, fluffy teddy bears. He wanted to ensure she knew how apologetic he really was.

They were mostly her favorites; wildflowers and they had been strewn about in nearly every available corner of the flat. It was not until she went to her room that she came across the roses. There were at least two, but probably three dozen, dark red roses expertly stuck inside an aptly sized stone vase sitting next to her bed with a card that had her name on it. She opened the rich linen paper; the note card read:

Sorry for being me; thanks for being you.

Always, Arthur

She could hardly contain her tingling excitement as she peered out from inside of her room to find him standing, smiling like a little boy, waiting to see how quickly she would notice them and what her reaction would be.

She told him he'd done enough to apologize, but he said it was worth it just to see her smile and that he was hoping that she would be back to wearing skirts around the office very soon. That was when they laughed what was probably their most comfortable laugh since before the Saturday morning when the improbable occurred.

* * *

She was in the middle of her second downward facing dog when Morgana unfolded her lime green yoga mat in the spot beside her.

"Sorry, I'm late," she half-whispered and half-mouthed the words.

It didn't matter how softly she spoke, their drill sergeant turn yoga instructor would have heard it anyway. The fifty something year old grandmother, who was as limber as a Romanian gymnast with the body of a nineteen year old ballerina, quickly snuffed out any further tries by the tardy woman to engage in a conversation.

Morgana could perform every one of the poses flawlessly, but having to be quiet during them was always her greatest challenge. Once, she made Gwen giggle so hard that they ended up laughing in fits and were eventually removed from that class by the instructor.

Now they go to the evening session where the instructor was intimidating enough to zip even her lips.

Gwen enjoyed the peaceful silence, interrupted only by the dulcet tones of the Ukrainian yogi. It gave her the opportunity to think. And she needed to do a lot of that of late. She found herself trailing off even in moments where she was in the middle of a discussion with someone else. They would snap their fingers – that was Merlin – to wrest her from the daydreaming or waited quietly until she had noticed that something had been said, making her quit her staring – that was Arthur.

Thankfully, it didn't happen much last night. The baking was good distraction, but that didn't mean she could consider being home and thoroughly enjoying the company of her flatmate a relaxing diversion from her present concerns.

In fact, it and he were at the heart of her internal deliberations.

* * *

"You have been avoiding me all week," she said.

"Morgana, it's only Tuesday," she replied closing her eyes and drawing in the warm fragrant steam of the spa room.

"See what I mean." Gwen shook her head at the woman in wonder. "You know me Gwen, keeping tabs on you is second nature," she continued. "It's what I do."

"If I didn't know you, then what you _do_ would be considered stalking."

The two friends laughed.

"Don't try to distract me. The boys were with us at the pub and don't forget that we're leaving for the coast on Thursday. If I don't know what you're thinking and poor Merlin will have an awful weekend if I don't find out. Deets, my dear. I want deets."

Gwen felt a little terrible. She had completely forgotten about Merlin and Morgana's spur of the moment trip to Cornwall this week. This really was their only time to talk. That didn't make her feel any better about things with Gwaine either. Morgana genuinely liked him as much as she did, but there really were very little of the details that she might have been looking for to tell.

"We had a good time. Not much more than that to report."

"So this is yet another man that's steaming down the expressway to Gwen's heart, going backwards?"

"Oh, that's not very nice, M.P."

"It's the truth," she smirked. "And only Merlin is allowed to call me that."

Gwen just smiled.

"Merlin said that you're all going out again on Friday. I guess I just assumed things may have taken an unanticipated turn."

"I'm only doing it for Arthur."

"Oh, yes your co-dependent flatmate."

"He's not co-dependent and show a little compassion, he's is your brother. I would think that you of all people would want to support him."

"Oh I do and I admire _all_ your efforts for _all_ these many years, but I think you're ignoring the 'co' in co-dependency. It takes two, as they say."

Gwen raised her eyes to look at the woman's deadpan stare. Often, she and Arthur would find themselves admitting to have acquiesced about something or another underneath its effective gaze. He would make some comment like: 'I swear Guinevere, it could break the toughest KGB agent' and then they would laugh themselves to tears about the "deets" of the particular confession.

It was all in good fun. Morgana knew she had this power, and the rest of them accepted it. She only used it for good and although Arthur would complain that he had had to suffer through her brand of interrogation since the two of them were children, he usually didn't mind divulging the information to her.

If she's completely honest, she didn't mind either and at the moment, Morgana was doing it to her again. She didn't need to, tonight. Gwen had gone too many days having not spoken about _it_ with another soul.

In the past, there were moments when she had these kinds of thoughts about Arthur. It was usually when he would do something sweet like the room full of flowers from yesterday or something completely silly like sneaking into her room and tossing his heavy body next to hers so she would wake up simply because he had been up and was by himself all morning, which in "Arthur Time" is more like five minutes.

And of course there was the unforgettably embarrassing moment when she walked in on him, just as he stepped out of the shower. She was red–faced and it took her a couple of days to be able to look him in the eyes again, mostly because every time she attempted it, he was smiling rather broadly at her. Boys are so much cruder than they needed to be, but she thought he wouldn't think it so funny had he known that his bare arse still haunts her dreams to this day.

She never confessed any of those things to Morgana and she wasn't sure if pressed on them that she wouldn't, but the woman's questioning eyes didn't need to try too hard tonight and besides the slow waltz with her was unnecessary – she already knew where this verbal jousting match would end up: another visit to the matchmaker's couch.

The image of the sofa in their flat popped into her head and it shoved her out of yet another mental escapade. She decided it was time to spill it before the woman would reach inside of her tool bag extract the imaginary cattle prod, slapped on her gloves and asked her to bend over.

"Arthur and I kissed."

"My brother, Arthur?"

"Yes, of course, Morgana. Do we know any others?"

"When did this happen?"

"Saturday morning," she answered.

"Was this before or after he slammed you into the floor?"

"After."

She shut her eyes, thinking about what would come next. In the darkened, ginger and lavender infused steam room, she would try not to open up too much so as to betray herself completely.

Even though, Morgana was her best friend, she couldn't really tell her everything she had been feeling since the kiss, or the times before it. To Arthur, their intimate exchange was just a slip up and one that he probably never wanted to repeat again.

Why else would he be apologizing this much, she asked herself already resigned to an answer.

"Describe it to me," she said after taking the moment to think.

Morgana's Sherlock Holmes was now in full gear, an evasive maneuver would be the only escape.

"How do you describe something like that?" She replied. It was not really meant as a question, but it got answered.

"Mouth opened or closed? Did any other parts of your bodies touch?" Gwen quickly realized that this was a bad idea. Morgana was far better at this game than she was at present. Her friend sat upright, cocking her elbow on the stone ledge behind them and turning to face her fully, leaning in as if searching for something inside a mirror she asked, "How long did it last?"

That one, she thought. It was the least uncomfortable question of the bunch.

Gwen couldn't tell her that their mouths were open and their tongues behaved like old friends or that she was the one who pressed her body against his, far too easily or that by the time it was done they both had their fingers laced into one another's hair.

I'll be honest about that last one, because we are friends.

"Well, actually it went on for a bit."

"How long is a bit?"

"Longer than it should have been."

She couldn't read the look on Morgana's features and the 'I told you so' moment that she had imagined didn't seem to be forthcoming. She always assumed that Morgana would be the most pleased to hear that something like this had happened. She had to admit feeling more than a little disheartened by her relaxed attitude.

"I thought you'd be happy?" She asked, trying carefully to mask her disappointment.

"I'm saving it for the rehearsal dinner? I've been tempted by the idea of you two before. I don't want to have my heart broken again."

Gwen's face contorted into a mix of bemusement and feigned confusion; and also what she hoped was not too much relief.

"Don't give me that look. You knew what we were all thinking when you and Arthur decided to share sleeping quarters."

"We were just friends then, Morgana," she replied laughing a bit and feeling better about some aspects of her abilities in the verbal sparring.

"Oh…so what are you now?"

It was a short-lived sense of victory and in the end it was she who had stuck the knife in with her last statement. "Nothing," Gwen tried to backtracked. "We're still _just_ friends. I asked him if the kiss meant nothing and he agreed."

"What do you mean you asked him if it meant nothing and he agreed? What exactly happened?"

She told her everything; verbatim.

"He just agreed with your false assumption. That's not what he meant."

"Well then why didn't he say something?"

"Arthur's not very good with words, Gwen…," she answered, drying the shower water from her hair. "…you know that as well as I do."

Her friend did not relent one bit, all the way back to the car park. She was the very definition of unrelenting.

"Morgana, it was a silly mistake in the heat of the moment."

At a stoplight she looked at her from across the driver's seat of the car.

"You know, in all the scenarios Merlin and I came up with, we never considered you getting slapped around the sofa as the catalyst for your relationship…you little minx, you," she said just as the light turned green and she hit the gas with the pointy tip of her Vivienne Westwood heels.

"Morgana, it's not like that." Gwen replied shaking her head and laughing. "Arthur and I are just mates, have been for ages. If I were a boy, Merlin and I would be fighting to the death to be the best man at his wedding and I would win. You'd be widowed."

"Widowed?" She scoffed. "You and Arthur are the settling down type, not us. And if you were a boy, we wouldn't be having this conversation." In a brief moment of silence, they weaved easily through the late evening traffic before the woman asked, "So when can I expect to become an Aunt? God, you're children are going to be gorgeous."

"Morgana," she whined loudly, near defeat.

"Gwen, I know my brother."

"He avoided me the entire day afterwards. I think I know what that means."

"It makes no sense to me," she said, clearly no longer listening to Gwen and only truly focusing on passing by other cars and her own thoughts.

"He agreed to dinner with Vivian again on Friday. Why would he do that?"

No answer came.

Gwen thought she might be making progress, finally. "You didn't see them together, Morgana. They were perfect and perfectly happy. If this is Arthur's one chance at being happy, I can't screw that up. Not after what happened to him the last time."

"Why do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Do this…," she replied, twirling her unoccupied hand in the air to exaggerate her point, "…constantly putting other people ahead of your happiness."

"I don't do that."

"You did it with Lancelot."

"Oh so _now_ you're telling me that I should have kept seeing Lancelot."

"I didn't say that," she clarified putting the car in park. "You and Lancelot wouldn't work."

"I know that. Do you have any other perceptible observation for me?"

"Just the most obvious one," she shot back. "Woman in love with best friend of seven odd years, but still manages to wake up every morning with a new way to deny it."

Gwen squinted at her. "Are you coming up? Arthur called for takeaway and he's waiting for us before he eats."

"No, I wouldn't want to interrupt your non-romantic, romantic dinner with your not-so-fake, fake boyfriend."

"Well that's certainly an unanticipated turn. What's changed?" She asked teasingly.

"More than you are willing to admit to yourself I think." She smirked again. Morgana knew she had won. "There's no going back from this one, sweetie. I'll give the two of you until the end of the year."

Gwen said nothing in response, but left her with a secretively grateful hug. The torture hadn't really revealed anything new, but she felt a little better having gone through it.

When she got to the door, it opened. Her flatmate had been waiting. He asked her about their session – once he had taken her to class and the yogi fell in love him instantly. He would joke that he seemed to have that effect on everyone, except her.

Gwen would laugh and roll her eyes.

He inquired about his sister not joining them and then winced at what she imagined was him thinking that Morgana and Merlin were likely off doing something together.

They ate Chinese and then argued about which one of them would get control of the remote that night. She would try her best to hold out, but he only had to make "the face" and she would politely concede to him. He always ended up watching what she wanted to anyway.

* * *

**A/N: New chapter will be up in a no more than a week. I hope you liked this one. Thanks for reading...drop a review or PM. =D  
**


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin moaned out a loud groan and it echoed against the walls of Arthur's office. "Can we please go now?" He begged.

"Merlin, you're the one who's always telling us to get the numbers right." Gwen said to him.

"Yes, but that was before I had to go away on holiday with Morgana."

"Your holiday with Morgana is precisely why we're here late since we've both agreed not to bother you two while you're away. A few extra hours today shouldn't kill you," Arthur said.

"You would think that, but I'm actually dying right now."

"What have I told you about theatrics?" He dismissed him.

Gwen watched as the two men argued back and forth.

"Come on Arthur, she's your sister. You know how she can be." Merlin turned and looked at Gwen. "The woman is insatiable. I haven't gotten any sleep at all this week."

Arthur raised his eyes to him and gave him one of his disapproving looks. Gwen sat quietly between them as Merlin was now switching tactics from excessive whining to sheer provocation. This strategy usually worked on Arthur.

She rubbed the back of her flatmate's hand to try to console him for whatever Merlin might say next. She began to pull it away, but Arthur grabbed hold and held on. She turned to look at him for an explanation, but he was still staring down the man sitting across from him, daring him to continue.

"I didn't mean it like that," Merlin said in a light laugh.

Her eyes moved from one man to the other. Merlin was now wearing a devilish smile on his face and he was practically doing handstands in his chair. She felt Arthur squeeze lightly just before Merlin said, "I'm going to ask her to marry me this weekend."

"You're going to what?" Gwen said.

Her eyes were bright and shiny as she pulled her hands to her face to stop herself from squealing. She reached over the table and wrapped her arms around their friend's neck, all but choking off his air. She kissed him on the cheek and congratulated him repeatedly.

Arthur tried not to trace the contours of her figure just beneath the delicate material of her summer fabrics. He failed. Her current position straddled over the table was like catnip for the less gallant quadrants of his imagination.

Lately, he hadn't been able to contain thoughts like these about his friend of seven years. The simplest things she would do would elicit a response. Now more than ever, he found himself wondering why he never pursued a relationship with the woman.

He wasn't surprised at Merlin's news. He had known and had kept it secret for months. Not only did his friend ask permission of him, he also asked their father, who to Arthur's surprise, was decidedly more pleased than he had expected. 'He wanted all his children to happy', the man told him.

Suddenly she broke the embrace. It ended his musings.

"Wait," she said. "You told him, before you told me?"

"Well, he is her brother, Gwen. I had to ask permission."

"And how could you not tell me?" She spoke in Arthur's direction next.

"Guinevere, I think we should concentrate our ire on the source of the deception, that being Merlin. We should toast," he said trying to change the subject.

He slid by her as she squeezed pinches into one of Merlin's arms; his friend's body flailed and blocked attempts in response.

"No champagne, so whiskey it is."

"Don't for a moment think I'm done with this," she said to him as they stood up from the table and moved to the middle of the room. "I'm going to want to see that arm of yours too, Arthur."

"Alright then, no ice for you," he replied.

She was bear hugging a smiley-faced Merlin again as he poured the liquor over the ice in two of the three glasses.

Gwen was beautiful, smart and very different from most of the women he'd known.

He recalled the first time they met. It was at one of his family's Christmas parties. All the best families had been invited – the Pendragon name still commanded a great deal of attention after all these years. There was a sea of attractive people, dressed impeccably all competing with each other to see who still had the most or the best, one year later.

Morgana had spent the entire day lauding about some woman she wanted him to meet. When he finally shook her hand, he wasn't immediately blown away by her. He'd been around beautiful women before and knew how to behave.

He was certainly attracted to her, but it wasn't until they started talking that he really saw how lovely she was. Unlike all the other eligible women he met that night, she and Morgana were the only ones who gave a care about anything other than themselves. He easily allowed himself to get roped into one of Morgana's little "do-good" projects and the next day, the three of them where outside in the London cold protesting about saving baby seals or something of that nature.

It was the first time, in some time that he participated in one of Morgana's peacenik, hippie outings. His jester didn't go unnoticed by his sister.

Of course, what had also distinguished her from the other young women at his family's lavish social events was that she was not an eligible woman. She was seriously involved with someone else. After becoming friends, he found that she didn't date very often. That was the good part, but the trouble was whenever she did, that guy tended to remain and tried anything he could to "make it work".

And what man wouldn't; she really was the perfect girl.

If anything could have ever happened between them that would have been the best moment for it. Nothing had though.

Arthur handed both of his friends the glasses with the ice.

"A toast, to my best friend, Merlin. I suppose some man had to be insane enough to want to marry my sister…" A snippy sort of congratulatory speech would be expected from the brother of the bride-to-be. Merlin and Gwen waited for Arthur to finish with something nice in closing. "…well, cheers then," he said.

Merlin's phone rang and Gwen took the moment to elbow Arthur in the side.

"It's the little lady," Merlin told them, shaking his phone in his hand at their faces as proof. He walked out of earshot.

Gwen poked Arthur again, in the spot that always made him revert into a five year old boy. He nearly spilt the dark drink from his short, square glass."

"Ow, Guinevere," he chuckled.

"I thought I was your best friend," she said to him jokingly poking him again.

He grabbed her hand. "You are," he whispered. "We just can't tell him. Keep it secret, keep it safe."

"Oh, so now I'm Frodo and your Gandalf?"

"Well…," he said, measuring their respective heights with his hands. "…it sort of works on some levels."

She punched him in the stomach.

"Ow," he said again. "That nearly hurt."

She twisted her face at him in that adorable way that she had about her.

Merlin interrupted their banter.

"So, we're done, yeah?" He pointed to the phone he had just hung up and said, "Your big sister wants her nomnoms to come home now."

Arthur glowered at the smirking man edging closer to them.

"I'll take that as a yes," Merlin said. He kissed and hugged Gwen, then moved over and shook Arthur's hand as they shared an honest smile. "I'll take the very best care of her," he told him.

"I know you will," Arthur replied. "Cheers," he said.

They clang their glasses and down the brown liquid. It scorched Gwen's chest, warming her all over from her mouth and throat outwards, spreading to her chest and limbs. It made her cough and flush.

Merlin saluted them, deposited the empty glass and snuck out of the door.

"I cannot believe he's going to be family," Arthur said gazing wondrously after him.

Gwen looked at him. She studied his jaw and cheekbones, his eyes and his lips, his face was flawless. She was glad that the whiskey gave her the perfect excuse should he take notice of her blushing at her thoughts.

"Maybe we should call it a night," she said walking by him. She placed the glass on the table and started gathering all her papers.

"What? Don't tell me that you're not getting any sleep either." He said to her in a managerial tone.

"Maybe," she teased the response at him.

He walked over to her and sat on the table where her papers had just been. "Well, I hope you're not planning on any surprise wedding proposals."

She looked up at him. With a wry smile, she asked, "And why is that, Arthur Pendragon? Are you afraid that I'll beat you to the altar this time?"

She tapped him on the chest with her pen.

"Something like that," he said smiling just a tiny bit.

Their eyes fell into an odd stare. Neither of them seemed entirely comfortable or disturbed by the act. It was late in the evening although the summer sky was still quite bright. The office had long since been deserted and for the past couple of hours it had only been the three of them reviewing and preparing materials for their upcoming meeting with Uther and the other members of the board. The room and building were perfectly silent.

"I should get the rest of my things." She took her gadgets and her papers and walked towards the door. She felt his eyes on her again, just like it had been on Saturday morning. "Meet you in the hall in five minutes."

He didn't answer her.

She stopped, pulling herself back under the threshold to look at him. "You'll wait for me?" She asked with a little chuckle.

"I'll be there, promise," he answered.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

She left him, taking a few steps down the hallway before stopping again. She couldn't remember the last time she literally felt butterflies twirling around in her stomach, but it hadn't been long enough for her to forget what this sensation meant.

* * *

As promised, Arthur was there. They spoke at intervals about random things until they settled on all the chores they would both be responsible for as Best Man and Chief Bridesmaid.

"You're Morgana's only friend, so she has to make you her C.B.."

"Does everything really need an acronym?"

"In my world, but that's not the point. The point is: he's going to make me his best man instead of Lancelot."

"Okay, you win, brother of the bride." She conceded to him, but not without reminding him that he had a natural advantage over their other friend.

He concentrated on his phone.

"She has no idea this is coming," she told him.

"None?" Arthur asked surprise.

"Nope. We were talking after our yoga session and she actually said that she and Merlin were not the marrying type."

"Why were you two even talking about that?" Arthur wondered aloud.

Gwen caught the words before they could escape her. She certainly did not want to tell him the truth. "It's what women do…all the time."

He gave her a doubtful look from the corner of his eyes, but returned his attentions to 'Paper Toss' on his mobile. She sighed the tiniest of sighs, but he heard it over all the other chatter and the mechanical humming of the tube.

"New high score," he said, feeling proud. She watched him as he ended the game and returned his phone to his pocket. He pressed his back further into the seat and asked, "What's the matter?"

"Just considering dinner," she lied.

"That didn't sound like one of your 'I don't know what I'm in the mood for' sighs."

The smile tore across her face uncontrollably. "You think you know me that well?"

"I do," he said back confidently.

She turned her head away from him. He knew he was right because he could just make out the faintest of blushes as she bit her bottom lip and tried to repress her gorgeous grinning.

"I think…you're in the mood for…Fight Club," he said.

"Yeah?" She asked, looking back at him with an eyebrow up.

He was nodding.

"There's nothing like watching Ed Norton and Brad Pitt bouncing around topless and bloodied. You'll enjoy the topless part and I'll enjoy the blood. You know you want to," he said nudging her. "You are Jack's horny best mate."

They laughed and as their stop was announced the lingering stare that had ended at each other's lips broke, along with whatever train of thought they were currently riding.

They walked to the little Indian place by Arthur's building and got dinner – it was too late for kitchen adventures tonight.

* * *

"I think I'm going to bed."

"Oh come on, it's early yet."

She was already off the sofa and half way to her room.

"I know, but I wanted to get some reading done before I got too exhausted to do anything else."

"Fine…," He pointed a finger at her, "…but you've fallen a few notches on my fun meter."

"I'm sure I can find my way back up," she said from inside her room.

He stared at the opened door from the safety of the couch, telling himself that he might have serious regrets if he were to listen to his inner Tyler Durden and follow behind her.

"Have you seen my book?" She hollered.

It was next to the monster flat screen.

She was the only person he knew who was perfectly happy reading while he shouted profanity at the Arsenal keeper every five minutes. He grabbed the thick library worthy edition of Jane Austin's complete works and headed for the door.

She was bent over looking for it underneath the bed.

"I've got it," he told her.

She looked up at him, sending a flurry of curls over her shoulders.

"My hero," she said, clasping her hands together at her chest.

"It's what I do."

"Have you and sister considered copywriting that phrase?"

She was standing in front of him now; she was on her side of the door and he was on his, they were staring into the each others eyes again.

He handed her the book.

She took it from him.

"Thank you," she said.

"Anytime."

Another moment went by between them before they each took a step back and she closed her door. He went by the kitchen and headed for his room. He needed a shower, a cold one.

* * *

**A/N: Look at me updated this weekend. =D Wrote my butt off this weekend and hopefully that will make you happy. The next chapter will be up very, very soon and will be special.**

**Please keep sending me your reviews. They are very motivating.  
**


	6. Chapters 6 & 7

**I promised that this update would be special and it is in this way: As I was writing it, there was no natural break in the story that would not end up with me upsetting many of you, so I've kept Chapters 6 & 7 together. I'll get out of your way now, so you can read...  
**

* * *

The previous night hadn't turn out to be as horrible as he first assumed it might. He was able to fall asleep quickly after his emergency trip to the cold water tap. He avoided her some in the morning, although they did stop to share slightly awkward sips of their tea together. If they hadn't, it would have been too odd. They'd had some portion of their morning tea together nearly every day since the day she moved in – it was like a daily ritual or anniversary that only they understood and appreciated.

Sophia remarked a few times that it was strange, but even she eventually just joined them at the table on the few occasions she slept over.

He knocked a rhythmic beat at her door. Her door was never closed during the day. He looked around the office, people were still buzzing all around him. He checked his watch. It was only three o'clock, he noted as the door edged open, seemingly by itself. He pushed it wide and saw her sauntering back to her desk, chatting away on her mobile. He shut the door behind him and sat down across from her.

Whoever she was talking to made her giggle. Her eyes glanced up at him and then back down again.

"Okay, we'll see you then," she said and hung up.

"Who was that?" He hoped his voice didn't sound too anxious or insistent.

"That was Gwaine. He wanted to know if the four of us could skip dinner and just have drinks tomorrow night instead."

"Why?"

"He thought it would be easier for us to leave you and Vivian alone to make faces at one another again, only this time it would be at your leisure," she teased.

Before last Friday, he had an inkling that Gwaine wanted more than just friendship and had only offered to introduce him to Vivian so as to have an excuse to spend time with his friend in a way that could eventually lead to something more. Now he was certain of it.

Gwen was always careful to only include him in events where all of their friends were in attendance or they were in a room full of critical faces. She very likely only considered him a friend, but she is susceptible to handsome men with easy smiles and gorgeous hair, plus this one has a sense of humor.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he said.

Gwen was busy with her pen in hand and the papers at her fingers. She was clearly ignoring him. "He has an early morning the next day," she answered absentmindedly.

"What's _he_ doing? Receiving his lifetime achievement award from Vidal Sassoon?"

"You know, tradition would dictate that Vivian and I should be the ones clawing at each other like this."

She didn't lift her eyes from the work.

"Does that mean you like me, Guinevere?" At last, he got her attention. He smiled victoriously. "Don't worry about traditions. You two _have_ been fighting over me," he said pointing to the side of his head. "You don't even want to know what you've been doing in here."

"No, I don't think I do, pervert."

Arthur grinned some more. She rolled her eyes at him and went back the papers.

"Hang on!" He said, realization just dawning on him. "Just what the hell did Justin Bieber's dad say about me?"

"Nothing," she replied laughing and writing. "Why must you call him names?And you shouldn't be so jealous of his hair."

"Guinevere, tell me what he said."

He leaned forward in the chair.

"Why do you even care?" She asked finally dropping her pen.

"I can't have that brigand sullying my good name."

"Don't you mean you're father's good name?"

"Hey, not because my father loves you more, that doesn't give you the right to say that. I mean it is all true, but we're not talking about me."

"Yes we are," she replied.

"Just tell me," he said.

"It was sort of a compliment." Arthur had no problem expressing his doubts to her about those words with a blank expression. "He said you had lovely bone structure and if you wore a little eyeliner you could be one of those Twilight vampires."

"That little cross dressing slag," Arthur said. "I'll show him Twilight–"

"You will do nothing of the sort," she said to him. "You will, however, sign these."

She handed him a few papers. He took them and signed without reading it.

"Arthur, do you have any idea what you just approved."

"No, but I trust that you do." He was twirling her pen between his fingers. "What was it?"

"It's Leon's contract."

He shrugged and sat back in his chair. "I told you I trust you."

"What if it's not want you want?"

"Guinevere, you know me, so therefore you know what I want? Hey, let's go home early."

"What kind of crap boss are you?"

"We were here late and we came in early. We deserve a break."

"I'm telling Uther."

"Gwen, I'm your boss. You can't just go over my head to the top man. Don't make me terminate you for insubordination."

"You can't terminate me, Arthur."

"Fine, I'll tell everyone you sexually harass me and beat my midsection with oranges, so no one sees the bruises when I come to the office."

Gwen glared at him. His teasing was getting close to irritation.

"I'll just go back to my office now."

* * *

"Guinevere," she heard his whiny voice crying out from the far corner of the flat.

"What is it, Arthur?"

"Could you come here? It's a life and death emergency."

She read another couple of pages before marking her spot and tossing back the throw. With her cup of tea in hand, she walked into his room to two small mountains of clothes between the door where she was standing and the bed.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" She asked. A blue t-shirt flew out of the closet and landed on top of one of the summits. She navigated her way deeper into his room as he appeared into her peripheral.

"I'm trying to find my Florida Gators shirt."

"You just threw it on that pile."

"Not that one, the one you gave me last Christmas."

She looked at him and kept moving towards the bed. His eyes tracked her deliberate movement. She set the mug down, crossed her legs at the knees and then interlaced her fingers around them.

"Arthur, how old are you?"

"Gwen, not the 'I'm old enough to know better speech'." She gave him the type of stern look elderly librarian ladies usually reserved for unruly teenagers. "Okay, I won't just toss them back into the corner. I _will_ clean it up."

"And you won't have your male housekeeper do it on your behalf?"

"He's a butler, Guinevere and you should not make fun of man's profession."

"I wasn't making fun of him or his profession," she chided.

He knew she was mocking his inability to wean himself of all of the comforts afforded a Pendragon despite his vigorous defense of his own independence.

"I actually needed him before you moved in and made me do things for myself, but I've matured since then."

"And why do you still need him to stop by every month?"

"He has a warm smile and he takes care of _our_ dry cleaning," he reminded her.

He saw her shoulders slump a fraction from their haughty position.

"I need the shirt, Gwen."

"Did you check the bottom drawer? The one where everything you can't find usually is."

He pouted and went back into the closet. She moved back onto his bed, lying on her stomach and propping her head up with one hand.

"You certainly are going through a lot of trouble for this date."

"I am not."

"Do you like her?"

"I like _her_ the same way you like _him_."

"Who? Gwaine?"

"Is there another him that I don't know about? Aha! Found it."

"Good for you," she replied condescendingly, picking his phone up from the nightstand. "Have you heard from Merlin any?"

"No," he said, reemerging and feeling euphoric about his quest ending in glory.

He was going to present her with the evidence, but her thoughts were elsewhere; playing Paper Toss. He could tell from her exaggerated movements. She was lying on his bed with her feet pointed up in the air. He grabbed one of the piles of clothing from the floor and went back inside, putting most of the clothing away in reasonable tidiness.

"Ha! I beat your high score."

"No you didn't," he said.

"Okay, I didn't…but I will," she whispered the last part.

He tried to preoccupy his thoughts as he attempted to return the wardrobe and his bedroom to some semblance of order.

"My father invited me to a dinner party on Saturday with a few of his friends. Actually, he really wanted you to come by, he just asked me to tag along to punch in the security code and pull out your chair and get you a drink whenever you like."

"Uther usually pulls my chair out for me. I love visiting with Uther."

Gwen rolled over onto her back and sat up. She actually was about to beat his pathetic high score.

"Gwen," she heard him call.

"Hmm," she replied.

"I was thinking maybe after dinner we could go see what's playing."

"Sure," she said. He could tell that she didn't understand what he had so lamely asked. "Oh, let's see The Tourist,"

He scoffed. "So I can spend all night wiping drool from your face as you gawk up at Johnny Depp? I'm a bloody pirate, mate. Look at me, I'm an American, I live in France, have mastered the British accent and I don't even own a telephone," he said in a mocking voice. "No thank you."

"Angelina has nice tits," she said in response.

"Eh, debatable," he said.

"Yes!"

He rolled his eyes. "Can I have nothing to myself?" He said to her, returning to the room to find her bouncing on the bed and doing a silly victory dance that had no business being so, but was strangely erotic.

"In your face, Pendragon," she declared.

The phone went off in her hand and she stopped her gloating dance long enough to see Merlin's number flashing.

"It's him."

"Answer it," he told her.

He edged his way towards her, passing the smaller mess of garments on the floor.

"Merlin. I am with Arthur and you're on speaker," she said.

Arthur stood next to her. She was still standing on his bed; his eyesight reached her at a or rather two very precarious points on her body. She held the phone between them and put the other hand on his shoulder.

"Gwen? Why are you answering Arthur's phone…and panting?"

"I told you they have sex with each other when we're not around to see them," Morgana's distant voice yelled from the other side of the line.

"It's like that tree falling in the woods thing. If Arthur and Gwen have sweaty, loud, dirty sex and no one was around to hear, did they really have sex at all?"

"Shut up, Merlin!" They yelled back at the two vacationers cackling into the phone.

"For the record, I called you first, Gwen," Merlin said after a moment. Gwen poked her tongue out at Arthur. "It went to your voice mail. Then I dialed Arthur's number and you answered. Were you just shagging our boss, Gwen?"

"If she was, she couldn't possibly be talking to you now."

"Oooo," Morgana's voice said. "Haven't you heard Merlin? Arthur's quite virile. He makes all the girls come and come and come…."

"Are you three done?" Gwen said as the others laughed.

"You can stop with the Mother Theresa act now, Gwen. We're on to you," Merlin said.

"I can't hear you," she replied.

"Was there something you two wanted?" Arthur asked.

"We made it," they replied in harmony.

"And the water's gorgeous," Morgana added. "We were going to have a swim, but I think we should just stay in and have sex; hot, nasty Arthur and Gwen sex. What do you think, honey?"

"I think that would be nice, my love," Merlin's voice answered.

Arthur and Gwen looked at each other and tried to stifle their laughter. The next sounds they heard were of kisses coming from somewhere posh in Cornwall.

"Okay, we're going to go now. Enjoy your holiday," Gwen said giggling, but still listening.

They only heard more wet lips making contact with each other and then it stopped abruptly. "We'll send you photos later," Morgana said.

There was a loud, moan and a very breathy 'Oh God, yes'. That was when Arthur snatched his phone and hit the red button. Gwen slapped a palm over her mouth to hide her grin from him. His eyes shot daggers at her.

Morgana and Merlin had been dating for more than two years and were now about to get married and possibly have children. She had thought of Elyan in these sorts of situations, but they never drove her mental like this. She wondered whether her brother would have behaved the same way. Why Arthur still allowed himself to get this riled up defied all her logic.

She folded her arms across her chest and then asked, "What's it like knowing that Merlin's having sex with your sister right now?"

"Really, Guinevere?" The skin on his face and neck were burned even hotter now with anger, tinged red. "Is this about the clothes? Because, look, I'm cleaning them up alright," he snapped at her.

He picked up a few more of the tossed items and waved them like a flag in front of her.

"I'm serious, Arthur. Are you really this angry about them?"

"It's Merlin, Gwen" he replied.

"And what if it were Lancelot?"

That question sent him retreating for the closet with what little things he held in his hands.

"Don't you have a book to read?" He sniped.

He busied himself folding, hanging and tucking things into the appropriate nooks. He didn't really know why it bothered him so much after all this time, but he wasn't happy that she, of all people, would try to goad him in this way to find out. Merlin and Lancelot were his friends and they had both done things that he wouldn't completely be able to forgive them for.

When he was done, he walked back outside to find her kneeling on the bed now. Her arms were still crossed. She wasn't smiley, bubbly Gwen anymore. Her eyes were locked onto his and she had the nerve to look upset at him.

He secretly adored her for moments just like these and there had been a few over the years. Whenever he had hidden away or refused to move beyond something, she was the one who would come back and force him to face up to them. At least she always held his hand as he went through it.

"You really want an answer?"

She nodded.

Reluctantly, he padded over to the bed and sat beside her.

"It's awkward, still. At first, I felt betrayed and then I was mad as hell and then I wanted to kill him for ruining everything. We were all friends, all five of us. He shouldn't have done it. I never said anything to him or to anyone of you. I wanted her to be happy, no matter what," he said.

Gwen hunched down and then swung her legs out over the bed to sit next to him. She wrapped her arm around his middle and he put his around her shoulder.

"Was it the same when Lancelot and I did it?"

"No," he said. "That was different. You're not my sister." He sighed. "In a way, I sort of admire him. He took the opportunity when he had the chance. I _am_ happy for them."

She looked up at him. "Morgana says I put other people's happiness ahead of mine and that, that was what I did when I broke it off with Lancelot. Do you think that's true?"

He wanted to be honest with her. His eyes squinted; he bit down on his lip and shook his head a little from side to side. "Sort of," he answered.

She blew out a breath and sent her eyes to a spot across the room.

"It's not a terrible way to live. It's better than the alternative."

She sighed louder and groaned a little.

"Ice cream?" he asked.

Her head nodded yes against his chest.

"I'll get you a bowl." He stepped over the last remnants of the messy clothes.

"I'll get the rest of your crap," she replied pointing to them.

"Aww, and I was looking forward to cleaning those up myself," he said over his shoulder.

Arthur got to the kitchen and opened the freezer. He realized that they needed to grocery shop immediately. He shut it again and then folded his arms across the cool stainless steel. He pounded his head against them a few times before stopping to stare down at the tiles on the floor.

Gwen grabbed the bits of clothes and returned them to their respective places inside the man's wardrobe. Everything was back in order, neatly tucked away in drawers or hanging down in straight lines from the rails. She gave it all an approving and resolved nod before turning on her heels and heading back out to the room.

Arthur was standing in the middle of the now pristine and uncluttered space of his room.

"There's no ice cream," he told her.

She froze in front of him.

"I lied to you before," he said, taking a step forward. "When I said all those things, I wasn't talking about Merlin. I was never angry at him."

He closed the final gap between them. Gwen stood speechless, inches away from his body.

"I lied about something else too. I told you I would never do this again."

He leaned forward and captured her lips, pulling her body into his, so he could deepen their kiss. She didn't push him away as he feared she might. Instead, matching both his movements and his intensity, she her arms went up to his shoulders and around his neck just as his hands latched on to her hips and in a seamless movement, he picked her up off her feet and took her to his bed.

* * *

Arthur rolled over and slapped the soft button to shut off the alarm. He smiled when he looked down at the mass of dark curls attached to the naked woman next to him.

"Is it morning already," Gwen spoke into the pillow.

"Yes," he answered, returning his arm across her waist, tugging her body closer into him and placing a kiss on the back of her shoulder.

"I don't want to get up."

"Are you asking me for a day off so you could have a lie in?"

"I would never take advantage of you like that," she chuckled.

"Are you certain? Because I wouldn't object to being used that way."

She rolled over to face him.

"I thought we decided that this was just a one-time thing."

"Well, that was what you said. I never actually agreed to anything."

"Well, you don't really have for it to be so."

He looked at her with a satisfying smirk that was now growing wider across his face.

"Arthur, no," she said bringing herself up onto her elbows. She was staring out ahead of her again. "Don't you think it will be awkward for them?"

"I don't really care and you know Morgana and Merlin won't either, so we're really just talking about Lancelot aren't we?"

Gwen didn't answer him. She continued to stare pensively beyond his bed to the distant windows where the sheer white curtains hung. He was curious as to what she might have been thinking at the moment. He had several worries of his own and a few difficult questions too.

"Did you and Lancelot, ever…?"

"Did we ever do what we just did?" She finished looking at him.

"Well, of course not, Guinevere," he replied cockily. "It's not possible for you have done what we just did with anyone else."

She giggled at him and then she shook her head. He kissed her, burying his fingers into her curls and pulling her closer to him, so he could say, "I don't want this to be one-time thing. That's not how I feel about you."

"That's not how I feel about you either," she replied.

His hand traveled down to her neck and her eyes went back to the windows as if they offered her assistance in extracting the more problematic questions. "So what do we do? Lie to our friends?"

"No," he said. Now he was the one resting on his elbows and staring at the window. He ran his fingers through his fringes and then turned back to her. "We don't have to tell anyone right away. We live together. We'll just keep behaving the way we always have, when we're at work or when we're with them."

"What if it doesn't work and we hate each other in a month."

"No chance. I've lived with you for three years. I know what you like and what you don't like. Plus, I let you get away with murder, boss me around and we've even seen each other naked before and it didn't destroy our friendship then so why would it now?"

Gwen's face contorted and spun around suddenly as he continued speaking.

"What do you mean _we_ have, Arthur? _You've_ never seen me naked before last night."

"Not entirely true. I've never seen most of you naked before last night," he said tentatively.

"Tell me you're joking."

"It was just a little side boob," he said holding up his thumb and forefinger to demonstrate.

"What?" She covered herself, bringing the blanket under her chin and moved away from him.

"It was an accident. You're door was open and you had your headphones in. I walked in as you took your bra off. I swear I only saw the one. I never told you because you had just moved in and I didn't want you to think I would sniff your knickers when you weren't home."

Gwen turned red. He laughed.

"It's not funny."

"I'm sorry, but I can't believe our first argument is about me glancing one of your tits _after_ we've already had sex."

He stopped laughing and tried to be serious, but she kept shooting him mean looks.

"Oh my God, I'm a horrible person," she said unexpectedly, flopping back onto the bed and bringing her hands to her face. She ran them up to hair and pulled the splayed curls back behind her head.

"Vivian?" She said staring up at the ceiling and slamming her arms down beside her.

"Gwaine," he said back.

"We're just friends, Arthur."

"Not friends like we're friends, I hope."

His hand moved up her thigh, his fingers grabbed hold of the hip as he climbed on top of her and pressed her into the bed underneath his weight. She wrapped her arms around his neck while he made odd patterns of kisses in the flesh at the neck and chest.

"What are we going to do about your date tonight?" She asked him.

"It's just drinks. Neither of us said it was more than that," he spoke into her skin before lifting his head and finishing, "Right?"

He wasn't really sure what she had been discussing with Gwaine all this time.

"I only spoke to him for five minutes yesterday. He's been swamped all week."

"And before that?"

"Just friend stuff." He looked at her. "Platonic friend stuff," she clarified giggling. "And you, man whore? What have you been doing with the lady Vivian?"

He gave her a fake smile and wrinkled his nose.

"I sent her a couple of 'smiley face' text messages, nothing more than that."

"So," she asked him.

"So, we have drinks with them, we're polite and enjoy ourselves, then I'll tell Vivian that she's a great girl, but…and you won't have to worry about Gwaine because I've already marked you with my scent, so he'll know instantly that you're off limits. Tosser," he scoffed.

She laughed at him. "You really are jealous of his hair, aren't you?"

His mouth twisted into a reluctantly smile. He was somewhat jealous, but he would never admit it.

"It has an unholy sheen that I tell you Guinevere is just unnatural."

He joined her in a chuckle.

She was running her fingers through his fringes. "You've got it all figured out don't you? What about Lancelot then?"

"You don't think he still has feelings for you?"

"I don't think so. Has he ever said anything to you or Merlin?"

"No, but he was acting a little strange when I told him that we'd kissed."

"Arthur, I don't want to hurt him or our little group."

"We won't. I promise."

He moved her hips so that she was positioned where he needed her to be. He caught her lips again and teased his tongue past her lips, brushing it lightly against hers. She let out a soft moan into his mouth.

He smiled looking down at her pretty face as she squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingers into his hair. Her body was pleading out to him again, but he was in the mood to tease and he had one last demand.

"We'll go slow," he said in quiet voice, not taking his eyes off of her every reaction.

She looked up at him, moaned again, louder.

"We won't tell anyone, until we're certain."

"Okay," she whispered distracted.

He pushed down against her hips. She was coiling her legs around him. She shut her eyes again and pushed her head back into the pillow using all her strength to lift her hips against the force of his heavier hand.

"Arthur," she pleaded softly.

"Yes, Guinevere." He pulled his body up and her head followed to give at him an incredulous look. "Promise me this won't just be a one-time thing," he said to her.

He felt her body relax beneath him. She pulled his face towards hers and kissed him sweetly on his mouth. She never answered him with an affirmative word, but this kiss felt just like the accidental kiss from a week ago. This time, however, its meaning was understood by both of their minds as well as their bodies and their hearts.

* * *

**A/N: OMG! The tree fell in the woods guys...did you hear it? :D I hope you liked these two chapters in one. Drinks with Gwaine and Vivian next. **

**Please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading and reviewing. **


	7. Chapter 8

Gwen stood in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. The water ran down from her clean hair and formed tiny puddles onto the floor by her feet. In less than a week she and Arthur had changed the dynamics of their entire relationship.

This was how she viewed the unexpected events of the past twenty-four hours, but really that wasn't the case at all.

What happened between her and her flatmate was not something either of them had intended – she still believed that. Whether it was right or not, is certainly beyond the point now. Yet without a doubt, a part of her was glad that it had happened, as the tension between them had brought her to her breaking point and him too, obviously. She wondered just how long he may have been pondering his actions and if he, like her, had perhaps had these emotions for more days than either of them could or would admit out loud.

Morgana had been right to a degree; her feelings for Arthur were not new or unknown to her, but to describe it as being in love for any amount of time, as she had characterized it earlier that week, would simply not be true.

Before she even recognized the mild interest for what it was or thought on a few occasions the sentiment may have been reciprocated, they _had_ become friends and she'd already made the mistake of partaking in those three regrettable dates with Lancelot.

From then on, whenever the tiniest flicker of emotion would resurface, a strong wave of dread would follow closely behind, putting out the spark at once.

Judging herself now in the mirror, she could admit that this all seemed like a giant step backwards. Prior to last night, she had no inkling that Arthur held any measure of animosity towards her or Lancelot for seeking each other out years before. If she could have been so blind to this with someone she spent nearly all of her time with, she shuddered to think what might be going on inside of Lancelot's head.

Now she wonders whether he will feel the same betrayal that Arthur did and whether the two men would always resent her and each other for what she had allowed to occur between the three of them. You're supposed to get wiser with age, she thought.

Arthur said he didn't care what the others thought. It's not true. He cares just as much as she does, but right now he's convinced that he wants this more. She didn't think herself quite so fortune to have the luxury to feel that way; there was more than just what one wanted most or felt strongly about to consider.

In practical terms, a scheme to be lovers while outside of the view of others is ridiculous in the light of morning – or in the twilight of this afternoon, as it were. However, everything about _this_ felt right to her, instinctual; and giving it and him up after having experienced it, would not be an easy choice for her make.

She grabbed her comb and hoped for the best outcome, despite the gnawing inside her belly that reminded her that in the end, they may not find a lifetime companion in one another and that the only thing that may come of all of this would be hurt for the people around them.

* * *

Arthur's hand rested comfortably, possessively on her right thigh as she stared out of the window of the taxi at the swoosh of buildings and the happy people making their way about town. At present, he was assuring his father that he would be bringing a suitable date tomorrow evening, specifically his flatmate as the older man had requested.

He ended the call after a few minutes and then squeezed her leg to get her attention.

"Nervous?"

"A little," she said looking at him now. "How can you be so calm?"

"It's easier for me," he explained. "I don't really know Vivian and I while I actually like Gwaine, I'm not planning on rubbing his back and feeling his pain tonight."

"You're not a very nice person," she said smiling, looking comforted for the first time since they left their flat.

"All's fair in love and war and all that."

"So is this love or war for you?"

"A little bit of both," he answered truthfully.

A tense smile tugged at the corners of her lips and once again she turned her worried head to stare away from him. Every time she would do this, it would unnerve him. He knew what she was doing or more to the point, what she was contemplating: was this relationship worth all the apparent risks?

He wondered if Lancelot had known her well enough at the time, whether he would have recognized the signs of her conflicted deliberations early on and managed to convince her to take the plunge with him, regardless of what might be we waiting for them on the other side.

"One last kiss," he said.

She obliged but ended it too soon for his taste. She wiped her mark from his lips as he frowned. In retaliation, he planted another one on her cheek just as the taxi pulled up at the curb. She made him promised on pain of death that no matter what happened this evening, he would not lose his temper, divulge their secret or be rude to her other friend and that he had to trust her as she would trust him to handle the other people involved in tonight's little charade.

They went inside to find the couple already seated at a table. A very spirited Vivian waved them over. He could see Gwen immediately recoil from the guilt. He traced his fingers up and down her spine to soothe her some.

"You two look absolutely fabulous," Vivian said to them.

"But not as fabulous as we do," Gwaine said stepping between him and Gwen and then clapping him on the shoulder before dismissing him with an insincere, "Sorry mate".

The dark-haired man, with dark eyes and the photo-ready smile scooped Gwen away him and led her over to the chair across from the blonde woman, leaving him alone and malcontent.

"We just arrived," Vivian informed him as he took his seat beside her.

"So did we," he mocked with a gleeful expression of his own, although it was laced with sarcasm.

Gwen reprimanded him with a subtle glance while the blonde woman giggled at the terrible joke at her expense. He deserved the scolding. He hadn't been inside more than a minute and already "Mr. Touchy Feely" was pissing him off to the point where he would be so ill-mannered.

On top of everything else that he would now be forced to watch from the opposite side of the table, the blonde woman's banshee-like squeal of a response to the insult did not help matters in the least. But, a bold declaration of his love along with a dramatic departure from the scene with his new girlfriend in tow would only serve to upset his new girlfriend. Truth be told, Arthur was a jealous lover. Gwen wouldn't know it though, because he never behaved this way in front of her, or at least he tried not to, when he dated Sophia.

The four of them spoke easily and recounted stories from the days since they last sat down together, leaving out one or two notable occurrences. The two couples were actually having a good time without much effort. Gwaine behaved like a perfect gentleman and kept a reasonable amount of distance from Gwen, while Vivian wasn't being too flirtatious. No one was a bore, but Arthur could do with a change of scenery.

"Another round for everyone?" Gwaine asked them.

"Sure," the women replied.

He took to his feet gracefully and extended a hand to Gwen. Arthur and Vivian watched them closely.

"A little help?" He said to her.

Gwen smiled and took his hand.

"Be back in a few hours," he told the seated pair with a satisfied grin.

They went off, twisting their way through the crowd inside the little pub. Arthur noted that he kept hold of her hand, making good use of their surroundings as an excuse, no doubt.

"He's too much, isn't he?" Vivian said looking at him. Her brown eyes locked onto his blue ones.

"Yes, he really is," Arthur replied, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"If you tell me, I promise not to tell him." She made an adorable, pleading face and held up one hand as if pledging to something.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur said raising an eyebrow at the slightly odd vision before him.

"Does she like him? They've been friends for a while now and they've gone out a few times."

Arthur's eyes went directly out into the pub, searching for her dark curls.

"He hasn't said anything to me, but I can tell he likes her quite a bit. He's not usually like this around women he's not seriously interested in. He's being patient with her," she said.

Arthur suddenly felt warm although the pub, despite being packed with patrons, was quite cool.

"I don't really know," he told the blonde woman. "We don't usually talk about that sort of thing. My sister is the one who hears all of Gwen's secret."

"Oh, I'd love to meet her," she said.

Arthur smiled weakly. His mind was just able to adjust itself from the first half of this conversation, even though the second half posed its own set of deep pitfalls. "She's actually away this weekend with her boyfriend. They went to the coast."

She giggled in response,"I didn't mean now, silly, just at some time in the future."

It was obvious now that she was operating off of a longer schedule than he had ever intended. He blamed it all on his misguided attempts to be friendly at their last meeting, for Gwen's sake. He looked down at her again. She smiled up at him and he could tell she wanted him to kiss her or do something to show an increase in interest on his part.

He smiled again; this one was even less cheerful. He tried not to think too much about Vivian beginning to make plans with his life. His eyes wondered past her once more and over to the bar where Gwaine had one arm in the air while the other fell behind Gwen's back, keeping her body close to his.

"So tell me what's it like being Arthur Pendragon? I want to know everything about you."

Arthur tore his eyes away from the woman with dark curls and tried to focus on the blonde before him.

* * *

Gwaine ordered for all of them, speaking loud enough over the music and chatter to the young man who didn't seem to mind the noise one bit. The spiky-haired youth, who might have been mistaken for an altar boy or a male model but for the string of tattoos that trekked their way up and down his thin arms, nodded and moved on to another group.

"I don't ever do this. It's breaking the supreme law of friendship, but since it may result in you having to get a new flat one day soon, I'll make an exception just this once."

Gwen gave him a puzzled look.

"Vivian is practically in love with your Arthur," he told her moving in to be sure she could hear him. "He seemed to have charmed the pants off of her; figuratively speaking, of course," he added.

Gwen could feel her stomach collapse as if she had been punched squarely in the gut and all the air had unceremoniously escaped her body. He pulled away from her slightly to see her response. "You are right," she said. "You are breaking the supreme law of friendship."

"She's a bit of a tigress, that one. She should have him eating out of the palm of her hand very soon," he continued.

Gwen looked behind the bar to find their svelte, barman. His back was turned to them as he reached for a bottle of Vodka for someone else's drink. She could feel her friend's eyes studying her.

"Has he said anything to you about her?"

"Hmm?" She said, only glancing at him.

"Arthur? Has he given you any indication about how he feels about her?"

She turned and looked over her shoulder at the couple still talking. Arthur had just said something witty or _charming_, but definitely funny as it that made the both of them laugh and Vivian tap his shoulder, the way a girl in love would do. Gwen's hands balled into tiny fists by her side.

"He's a guy Gwaine, what little he does know about his feelings he certainly doesn't share them with me." She heard the annoyance in her voice and quickly tried to mask it. "That's usually where Merlin and Lancelot come in."

"So you only fix him up on the dates, you don't ask how they're going?"

Her eyes met his again. There was something accusatory in his tone that she did not like hearing at the moment.

"It's really none of my business," she shot back. "We're just friends, nothing more; have been for ages."

He nodded at her and she sought out the tattooed arms again.

"Listen, Gwen, Vivian is like a sister to me and I think Arthur's rather delightful in a completely arrogant and prattish sort of way, but truthfully, I would have preferred to spend this evening alone with you."

Gwen froze from hearing his statement. She hadn't noticed, but she was nearly trembling with anger. She looked at him now, slightly stunned.

He chuckled. "I'm sorry. You would think that I would have learned by now the proper way to ask a beautiful woman out on a date."

The barman set the four cold glasses down next to them. Gwaine grabbed all them between his fingers and allowed a smooth grin to part his lips.

"Practice," he said with a wink.

She smiled and walked ahead. She couldn't be bothered with Gwaine's charms at the moment. Right now, her mind was wrestling with the smiley face pair back at the table. She was not happy with Arthur. She had asked him to be nice to her friend; the request for him to be pleasant was never intended to extend in such a gracious way to the fourth member of the group.

"Ah, look at that," Arthur said, observing the man easily carrying all of their drinks. "You didn't even need Guinevere's help. You could have left her right here with us."

"True, but what would have been the fun in that?" he replied.

Arthur glared at him for a moment as everyone took their glasses. His heart rate still hadn't simmered any since Vivian confirmed his suspicions. He was upset with himself, as well as the woman he was suppose to be entertaining before finding a kind and decent way to dismiss. He had prepared himself to be thoroughly incensed by the man seated across from him with eyes firmly fixed on Gwen's every movement, but he never anticipated that he would be upset with her tonight.

How could she not have known of his affections? Vivian was no genius and she'd figured it out. He thought for a horrible instance that maybe she had known and didn't put a stop to it, perhaps because she hadn't wanted to.

He glanced over at her. She was holding on to her glass with a considerable amount of tension in her fingers.

"Arthur was just talking about all the fun times you two have in the office, Gwen." Vivian said. The giddy woman next to him grabbed his arm with both of her hands and squeezed him.

"Was he?" Gwen replied refusing to look at Arthur, but not missing the affectionate touch he was still receiving from his date. She forced a smile, took a sip of the beer and then looked off into the distant mass of people having far more fun than she was at present.

"What were we just talking about, Gwen?" Gwaine asked, taking a coy sip from his glass.

Arthur saw that his undeclared girlfriend's face twisted into a perplexed, somewhat apprehensive gaze that fell onto the man sitting next to her.

"We don't have to talk about that in front of them," she replied.

Arthur's jaw clenched. His eyes burned holes into the side of Gwen's face.

"No," Gwaine said, in a questioning tone. "Please, don't feel as if you need to be shy on my account. My life is an open book."

Arthur watched as Gwen sat silent, still refusing to look at him. The tiny orbs from his blazing stare were half way through her skull by now; she had to feel his eyes demanding her attention.

"Ok, I'll tell them," Gwaine went on. He turned away from her to look at the blond couple across from them. "I just asked Gwen whether she would like to dance. She did not give me an answer, so I'll ask again. Guinevere, may I have this dance."

She only mustered a tiny nod and her eyes finally glimpsed a look at him as they left again for the crowd gathered in the middle of the room. His blue eyes never left them even after Vivian was done reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.

"He is such a charmer. She won't be able to hold out much longer. Women are so weak around him," Vivian said.

In that moment, Arthur could see himself telling her off, then walking over to her brown-haired friend and punching him in the jaw before grabbing Gwen by the arm and dragging her all the way back to their flat, but he'd promised not to be jealous – outwardly jealous anyway. Not to be jealous of another man dancing with your girlfriend in an endeavor to woo her was impossible for him.

"If he's so wonderful, why haven't you two ever been more than friends?"

"Oh, Gwaine is sweet, really he is, but he's a bit of a rolling stone. He's only been back in London for the past couple of years," she said. She noticed Arthur watching them dance. "I wouldn't worry about Gwen though; I think he's here to stay this time."

"I'm not worried about Gwen. I think she _only_ sees him as a friend."

"You're such a good friend, very protective. You'll make a great father one day," she said to him. "As for Gwaine, he can be very persuasive when he wants to be. And believe me…he wants to be with her."

Arthur looked at her now. She was smiling again and making faces at him. He could only look away, sulking and seething inwardly.

* * *

The right opportunity to kindly and decently let Vivian know that their brief courtship would be coming to an abrupt end, never presented itself in the loud atmosphere of the pub or with his sour disposition. The upside, if any, was that he did manage to reset many of her wild expectations regarding their progress given his general lack of interest in anything she had to say for the rest of the dull evening.

He asked her out to coffee sometime next week and told her he would give her a call to set something up. He figured this would be the least complicating way to put a full stop on their story.

Thankfully, Gwen and Gwaine hadn't completely abandoned them – not that he would have allowed it. They had been off together, alone at other points throughout the evening. His mind invented a number of disturbing conversations that they might have been having.

They parted ways with the other couple close to midnight and got into a quiet taxi headed for home.

"Did you tell her?" She asked pointedly.

"Not yet." He shot back.

"He asked me out on a date."

"You told him no, right?" He asked tersely.

"I didn't tell him anything actually. We took the drinks back to the table and then he didn't mention it again."

She was angry with him for some reason. He was angry with her before, but her casual tone and evasive eyes were beginning to make his blood boil underneath his skin. "You will tell him," he instructed, obviously perturb.

She didn't answer or look in his direction. As soon as they stopped, she just got out in front of their building and kept walking. He paid the man glaring at him from the rear view mirror – clearly he had sided with her after overhearing their argument. By the time he was able to follow her, she was already up the steps and telling the doorman to have a good night, managing to bless him with one of her genuine smiles.

Arthur caught up to her outside of the lift.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear an answer."

"You didn't hear an answer to what?"

"To my question."

She folded her arms and sent him a deathly glare. "Vivian is in love with you."

"What?" He said.

"Gwaine told me so. She's practically gone shopping for China and decided the names of three or four of your children. And why were you two smiling at each other all night?"

"I was being polite and I'm surprised you could even see any of it from the other side of _his_ hip."

The doors slid open to their floor, her eyes narrowed at him and she stomped out. He slapped his forehead and exhaled sharply.

"Guinevere," he said. He went into the flat after her. She walked directly into her room. "Are we not going to speak to each other now?"

"Arthur," she said, spinning around to look at him in a way that made him regret asking both this question, the jealous laden one from earlier and everything he had said and done since they had left for home. "These are real people's lives. We couldn't even tell them tonight and they aren't even our closest friends."

"I know," he said taking one of her hands. He kissed the inside of her wrist and then pulled her into an embrace. "I've asked Vivian out for coffee to explain. Tonight wasn't the best place and I was horribly distracted by a certain Irish Casanova. I didn't want him touching you."

She giggled into his chest. "I'll tell him before you break all his fingers in my honor."

"Do that."

"I should have never agreed to arrange a date for you."

"No, you shouldn't have. This really is all your fault, isn't it?"

She gave him a lighthearted punch. He tumbled back onto the floor and took her with him. She landed on his chest.

"Ouch," he said when it was all over.

"You deserved it. Instant karma and all that," she joked with a note of distress in her voice.

"We'll be fine," he tried again to reassure her about them. "We mean well."

"I was a little jealous tonight," she confessed.

He chuckled, quite relieved. "Me too."

She shifted to look at him as he lay comfortably on the floor with one arm bent behind his head. "I don't like him the way I like you. You do know that right?"

He nodded. "Vivian is a nice person, but I was never interested."

"Never?"

"No. Not even with all her constant eye-batting. She wants me, Gwen."

"Shut up, Arthur." They laughed and she nuzzled back into his arm. "Do you think Merlin's proposing tonight?"

"I don't know. I generally don't like to think about it."

"Have you thought about our pact?"

He laughed. "Repeatedly," he answered.

"Should we still keep it? I don't think we need to anymore. Could it even work after all of this?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know if I would want to bother."

"I would," he said.

"You would?" She lifted her head again to look at him. He seemed sure. "Arthur, you would seriously want to marry someone –"

"Not someone," he interrupted.

She blushed before continuing, "Alright then…marry _me_ after we've already dated and broken up once and have failed at love so horribly that we would still be alone in ten years time?"

"It's a pact, Guinevere and we swore to it."

"We were _so_ drunk."

"It's a verbal contract. I gave you my word and I intend to keep it."

"You know, they have places for people like you."

"Where's that?"

"Oh, you'd love it. The people are all very nice and they serve you your food. The rooms are a little small but there's padding all around so you won't get hurt."

"Will you come with me?"

"No," she said shaking her head.

"Then I'll pass."

She watched him lying content and rather happy. It made her feel the same.

"You're bed or mine?"

"Yours is closer, but it has all those girly pillows on it."

"Well, we could use some of those pillows for something other than resting our heads," she said tracing her finger on the cotton fabric at his chest.

"To the bed! Now!" He ordered.

* * *

**A/N: Not too many fireworks this time around. ;D The weekend continues with the next update and you'll meet my Uther. :D **

**I think chapter 5 is still my favorite, so far. What do you guys think? Please review and let me know. I hope you like this chapter though. I liked writing Jealous!Gwen even more than Jealous!Arthur.**


	8. Chapter 9

"Guinevere, you're a smart girl, but I'm lost as to how you can read this rubbish," he said trying to disguise his grinning with an admonishing tone.

"Still sore because I beat you at pillow fighting last night?"

"Is it possible to _beat_ someone at something when they _allow_ you win? I was being chivalrous."

"Is that what that was? Because from my vantage point it looked an awful lot like surrendering in the face of overwhelming defeat."

Arthur snickered satisfyingly to himself, recalling perfectly the image of her victorious moment from his vantage point and how she hugged and kissed him after he gave up the fight – some losses came with their own rewards, he concluded.

He was sitting on her bed now, flipping through the pages of the second chapter of Pride and Prejudice, looking horrified and disturbed by its contents and the idea of him reading it after all these years. He was finding it difficult to put down, though. He hated having to read the classics when he was younger, but now he supposed that there was a good reason people still print them.

He was just starting chapter three when she reappeared in front of him.

"What do you think about the white one?"

He dropped the book from his face. "I like the white one," he said suggestively.

He tossed the book over his head onto the bed and grabbed her by the hips. His fingers began edging the soft fabric up the length of her thighs. "Why don't we just stay home and have the party here instead," he said kissing her exposed shoulder.

"You are beyond saving," she replied slapping his hands away. The fabric floated back to the floor.

"I think I've imagined doing some amazing things with you, while you were wearing this dress," he teased.

"Arthur, I haven't worn this dress in almost two years."

"It made the right impression," he said.

"Were we ever even friends at _any_ point in the past seven years?"

"Oh come off it, Gwen. Don't tell me you never wondered what was lurking underneath my trackies when I'd walk about with no top on."

"You did that on purpose," she stated.

"Sometimes," he admitted, flexing one of his arms and kissing the hardened muscle.

"You're not nearly as funny as you think. The car will be here any minute. Is it the white one or the purple one?"

"Purple," he said.

"White it is, then." He turned up his shoulders and shook his head with a bewildered expression spread over his features. "It's more comfortable," she explained and then walked back to the closet to change.

"So what was the last thirty minutes for?"

She undid the zipper at the side of the gown and allowed it to fall to the floor. "Maybe I just wanted to see your face when I did this," she smirked.

It was comely smile and his body responded with a few steps in her direction until the annoying screech of the buzzer filled the air of the flat.

"That's the driver," she said.

"He can wait," Arthur dismissed with a swatting of his hand.

"That's rude."

"Two minutes, Gwen," he pleaded lightly.

"That's unappealing." She made a face that she felt adequately conveyed her displeasure with the idea. "Go," she commanded.

He obeyed begrudgingly, backing away and picking up her large satchel.

"What in the world? Guinevere, we're spending _a_ night at my father's, why is your bag so heavy?"

"Shoes," she replied from inside the closet. "You have to have the right one. Do we need to renew your gym membership?"

"I think you can vouch for my endurance."

"That I can, darling."

His lips parted broadly, he beamed lugging the bag over his shoulder and walking away with a proud gait and no further complaints.

She was out of the doors of their building a few moments after him, dressed in a plain t-shirt, a pair of well-fitting dark jeans and heels. The garment bag with her white gown and probably the purple one too hung from one of her outstretched arm. Her hair was out and with each step, bobbed around her face which at the moment was smiling back at him.

This was the first time he thought that they may not be able to keep their secret to themselves for very long. How could he not give them away when she made him light up like this merely upon sight?

* * *

"Are we still going out afterwards?" Gwen asked him softly. She always felt it necessary to speak quietly whenever she tiptoed down the halls of the Pendragon family mansion in the city. The desire only grew stronger at their sprawling country estate where she first met Arthur.

"God no," he replied.

"But I thought you wanted to see a show."

"I just said that to get into your pants, but since I'm already there–"

"Arthur." She shushed him. "Are you purposefully trying to blow our cover two days in? We agreed not to tell anyone, including your father. Remember?"

"Alright, I'll be good."

He stood behind her and knocked. After receiving permission, he opened the door to his father's enormous study where the older man normally contemplated work and family business when at home in the city.

"Guinevere," the man said standing up and moving from behind the ancient desk. "How good of you to come."

He took her hands and pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek.

"How have you been? You know it has been too long since you've visited."

"Ah, you remember me, your first born son. I did open the door for her," Arthur said. His father always ignored him whenever she was in the room – something about her being smarter and more engaging.

"Arthur, yes. Thank you, my boy," he said and then looked back at Gwen. "We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself lifting a finger in my home."

Gwen smiled. Arthur ignored both of them.

"You will be spending the weekend, I presume," Uther said. She nodded yes to her gracious host. "The party isn't until this evening, so we have the day to catch up. Your father beat me at our last game of online chess, but this week, I'm winning, so far. How is your brother?"

Arthur watched as Gwen and his father, who had formed a bond of their own over the years, went on talking as if he were a ghost or another piece of furniture in the room. The man took to her instantly upon meeting her six Christmases ago and had encouraged her to take her current position at the family firm to keep an eye on his wayward son he said.

His father already saw her as a daughter, so it would not be difficult for him to accept their relationship making this slightly stunning development. If the man would have any criticism it would be directed at him for not doing it sooner and wasting time with women he didn't really love – on this the two men would agree.

He wasn't sure if Merlin was correct about his rationale for wanting to get married, but in this instant, he was just grateful that his first attempt with Sophia was a failure. He thought of his and his sister and what this weekend meant for them, a little smile crept over his lips.

The idea of possibly jaunting off with Guinevere for a romantic weekend to propose and then actually making her his father's daughter by law, made his heart race for more reasons than one. As alluring and exciting the prospect may be, it was also slightly terrifying. In the back of his mind, he was worried that things may not be allowed to work out between them and one day, he might have to watch her walk down the aisle to take some other man's hand.

He was nearly certain that this was the path he and Gwen were intended to take all long, but the two of them arriving at this destination was long in getting here and filled with a fair amount of pretense and denial – and not just between themselves. He was concerned of what the eventual revelation of them being a couple would mean for people like Lancelot and even her little friend with feelings, Gwaine.

The assurance he gave her that their intimacy would not harm the people they cared for sounded heartening at the time, but in truth there were no guarantees in life, people do guard their deepest feelings from one another and Gwen really was the sort of person who would put someone else's happiness before her own.

"We were thinking about going to see a show later this evening. Arthur was hoping to see some mature scenes of Angelina Jolie," he heard Gwen tell his father.

The man shot him a scolding rebuke with his eyes. It froze him amid an idle movement, like it had done ever since he was child. Gwen's adorably giddy and giggling face was the starkest of contrasts next to the disapproving glower painted over his father's features at the moment.

Merlin liked to taunt him using his sister. His girlfriend enjoyed making him squirm engendering the usually very agreeable assistance of his father that she somehow seem to be able to summon at will.

"This is why I never allow you two to 'hang out' when I'm around."

"Oh, you know your father loves you. Stop being a baby."

"Speaking of babies," he said. "Let's go practice making one."

She scurried just out of the reach of his grabbing fingers down the hall to her room – it was next to his. She stood in the doorway blocking the entrance. "Go to your room, Arthur."

"Why?" He whined. "He'll be in his study for a while."

"No, not in here."

"Okay, you can come to my room instead."

"I meant the whole house," she whispered.

She stepped back as one of the maids that she didn't recognize smiled at them as she went down the hallway and rounded the corner to the stairs.

"You see what I mean. Your house is littered with eyeballs. They come straight out of the paneling."

He frowned at her. "So what am I suppose to do for the next approximately seven and a half hours?"

"Well, we have lunch with your father soon."

"Yes."

"And then we could…." She paused for a moment biting her lip. "…I don't know," she said hopelessly with tiny squeal that morphed into a laugh.

Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she stared into his persuading blue eyes and searched her thoughts for something in the way of a _fitting_ activity that could serve as good entertainment for the both of them. None came; she was completely out of ideas. She grabbed his collar and yanked him inside the room.

* * *

"Gwen," he knocked at her door.

She opened it. "Almost done," she told him walking back inside.

His mouth was agape as his eyes traveled the length of her. She was busy putting in one of her sparkly earrings. If the purple dress was less comfortable, he couldn't tell because she looked completely at ease in it and the stunning color was radiant next to her skin – she looked positively regal.

She smiled at his silent gawking. Her hair was scooped up, tied back and hung over one of her shoulders with little tendrils falling around her face. If his father, his sister or any of their friends could see his face in this moment they would recognize the gaze for what it was. Could she? he wondered.

"I just came to see if you needed help with your zipper."

"Thank you," she said, turning her back to him.

He walked in and closed the door behind him. His fingers fumbled with the back of her dress and he could feel warm beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He had no idea how he was ever able to be just her friend for so long while harboring these feelings that now seemed to want to burst out of every pore along with the sweat, but he knew very soon he would have to tell her exactly how he felt about her – he hoped the feeling would be mutual.

* * *

Downstairs, they mingled, sometimes together but also a part. Moving around the moderately sized room playing host to twenty or so gentlemen and ladies, all lifelong friends of his father and all gathered inside to his home for a swanky meal, served on generation's old China, eaten from opulent gold silverware.

Since he was a young man he had to attend these formal get-togethers. It was a way his father had devised to force him to spend any time at all with the people of his ilk. He would take a muddy pitch on a Saturday afternoon any day.

Tonight felt different, however. It was not as awful as some previous occasions had been and that he attributed it to her. She was with him, standing next to him at times, but also being whisked away by some enchanted grandfather who was old enough to know better, but still she was _with_ _him_ now. Since he barely took his eyes off her, she only needed to blink and he would be there to rescue her – not that she was any damsel. She was better at this than he could ever dream to be and everyone in the room adored her.

He was grateful when they finally sat down to enjoy the meal, not for the food but because he was assured that she'd be by his side for the next few hours.

"Did you miss me?" she asked.

"Terribly," he replied sipping from his water glass. "Have I told you just how beautiful you look tonight?"

"I think you may have mentioned it a few times upstairs."

"Was I able to get the words out? They didn't sound very coherent when I said them."

She giggled at him.

"Excuse me, Gwen," Mrs. Osborne asked from her left. "Would you tell me again what it is that you do for Uther?"

They soldiered through the multi-course dinner, with a few whispered discussions between coy smiles, several eye gazing moments and one opportune moment where she held his hand and interlaced her fingers with his underneath the table. Often though, they were interrupted by the practical strangers at either of their sides who refused to allow them to delight in one another's company.

When the night's entertaining came to an end, his father gave her another of his paternal kisses and said good night to them both before shaking his hand and retiring for bed. They walked the dimly lit, sleepy halls by themselves and headed towards her guest room.

"This is almost like our first date," he said to her standing outside her door. "We ate dinner, I walked you home and now I'm standing outside your door."

"Yes, except this isn't my door and it's _your_ father who's at the other end of the corridor and we shared our table with a room full of lovely people who were hell bent on keeping us from enjoying ourselves."

He chuckled. "I'm usually much better with second impressions. I promise our next date will be an improvement."

"Ah, so you will ask me out again," she said tapping her finger on the side of her mouth. "Hmm…I wonder if I'll return your call."

"You better, I know where you live and I am the sort of man who would stalk you from outside your bedroom window."

"Well, I don't think you'll need to go to such lengthens to get my attention."

"That is nice to know."

"I guess I'll have something to look forward to then?"

He smiled. "Thank you for coming with me tonight. I know you love my father and would have done this for him, but I appreciate it just as much."

He was holding on to one of her hands. He never seemed to want to let go now that he could do so in such a meaningful way. He lifted her fingers and placed her hand onto his cheek. "Good night then," he said, respecting her wishes from earlier that day.

She smiled and kissed his lips. "Until tomorrow."

* * *

The knock came to his door when he was deeply dreaming. It was Gwen. She was shaking like a leaf with joy and excitement. He imagined this would be how his daughter might look on some Christmas morning in the future.

"I had to see you. I couldn't wait until morning," she said. She was wearing a t-shirt, short shorts and her robe, and looking quite tempting with her phone in her hand. He had wished for her to say those exact words not more than an hour ago – the phone wasn't a part of his fantasy. "Where's your phone? Did you get their messages?"

He wasn't lucid enough to answer any of her questions. He grabbed her by the arm and led her into the room, not stopping until they reached the bed where he dragged her with him underneath the blankets. He only saw her press the screen on his phone before his eyes closed again.

"You turned your phone off." He garbled an indiscernible response into the sheets. "Arthur, look," she said. It was a picture of his sister and his friend smiling with the large engagement ring on her finger that he had seen several months ago."She said 'yes'."

"Well of course she did, Gwen." He snuggled further under the blanket and buried his head into the comfy, down pillow. He threw a heavy leg over one of hers to keep her from leaving, while she flipped through her messages some more, although at the moment he wished she'd just close her eyes and curl up next to him.

"I'm sorry I woke you," she whispered a little later. "I didn't realize you were so exhausted. I'll go."

He sprung up. "No, stay. I'll wake up in five minutes. We can talk then."

She laughed at the sight of his creased face with heavy eyelids and shaggy hair.

"How about, if we just went to sleep instead?"

"Or that," he said happy.

The lights went out and they were together again.

"She really had no other choice, you know. He's the only man on earth that would–"

His mocking was silenced by a sharp elbow to his midsection.

"Good night, Guinevere," was the reply.

"Good night, Arthur.

* * *

Gwen answered the phone on what she hoped was the first ring. She twisted to see that the vibrating tones hadn't woken up the man sleeping next to her. It must be the familiarity of the place and his room that made him rest so well or maybe it was always like this with him on the weekend. She relished in the idea of finding out in time.

"Hello," she said easing out of Arthur's bed and from under his arm.

"Gwen, it's me."

"Elyan," she whispered, now fully alert. "Why are calling so early?"

"Sorry, did I wake you."

"No, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting anyone to call." She went to the corner of the room farthest from the bed.

"I'm on my way to the airport. I'm flying back to London," he told her.

"Why?" The response sounded harsh. "I mean, where's Dad?"

"He's still here in Spain, still retired. Listen, I was hoping to stop by and see if we could talk a little. Are you around?"

"Yes, but–"

"Is Arthur there?"

"Elyan, it is his place and I do live with him." These were words she had always used, but in hearing them now they meant so much more to her.

"I know and I'm not judging."

"Anymore," she said, somewhat as a question.

"Gwen, can we talk about it later?"

"Sure."

"I'll just let the man buzz me up then."

"Yes…no, wait," she said. "We're not there at the moment."

The other end was silent.

"We were invited to a dinner at Uther's last evening. I'm still here. We're still here." She looked over at the bed, thinking that she had just spent the night in it with the other half of the aforementioned '_we'_. "I'm not exactly sure when we'll be home."

"Alright then, why don't you let me know when you're back and I'll head over."

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

"You sound strange. Are you certain you don't want to tell me what's going on now?"

"Nothing's the matter, Gwen. Stop worrying so much. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"I'll call you when we leave."

Something was without a doubt the matter. Why was her brother back all of a sudden from his new life? Why did he need to speak with her so desperately, at least he sounded desperate? Arthur shifted in the bed. She stood in the corner wrestling with whether or not she should just eek her way out of the room now. It was very early and likely no one would see her leaving.

"Gwen, you're spot's getting cold," he mumbled.

She couldn't help but laugh. "I thought you were still sleep."

"I am."

She walked back to the bed and got in.

"I was planning my escape back to my room."

"Yeah?"

"Hmhmm. I had it all mapped out too."

He scoffed. "I think you're beginning to like the idea of keeping us a secret."

"It hasn't been a complete disaster, so far anyway." She paused and then said, "That was Elyan."

"Yeah, how is he?"

"I don't know. He says he's coming back to London. He wants to stop by and talk."

"Oh that's nice."

"I hope so."

"He's a big boy, Gwen."

"He doesn't always behave like it."

"That's not entirely fair from what I've seen."

"You've only seen the good parts."

"You worry too much."

"You're taking his side."

"Never," he said kissing the top of her head and turning her palm over to access her phone. He navigated to her message box and pressed the last message open. He stared at his sister and her fiancé for a few moments. "They look happy together."

"Yeah, they do," she said.

"Guinevere," he started after another moment. He heard himself say the words, make the confession but it was only in his head. The actual words 'I love you and will you marry me' got stuck somewhere between his bravest intensions and his throat.

"What is it Arthur?" She asked raising her head, resting her chin on his chest to look at him. Her eyes were warm and her smile was welcoming, but he could not risk speaking the words only to watch as the image may perhaps shift as she retreated from him. He thought she would need more time before he could say something like that. Maybe everyone else would too. It had only been six months since he'd ask Sophia.

"Maybe we should go to the coast," he said instead.

"That may be a little difficult, seeing as we aren't really seeing one another." She giggled and returned her head to his chest. "Maybe next summer, after we get past all of this," she said yawning.

He smiled a little. At least she could consider a next summer for them. That was worth something.

"Going back to sleep?"

She nodded. He pulled her closer into him and took the phone from her hand. Burying his face into her lavender smelling hair, he held her until they were both sleeping again.

* * *

**A/N: Taking a small break from this story to deal with some RL issues. I hope to be back writing and updating this story very soon. Happy Holidays Everyone and thank you for reading and all your lovely reviews. :D **


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